If You Are Dead or Still Alive
by Jaygrl22
Summary: Jennive Thompson sneaks out for fun, & maybe a beer or two. Never for drugs. Sadly, no one believes her over that greedy, scheming Jane. She's taken off her medication and sent to live with her Aunt & Uncle as punishment. That's when she meets him. Quietly suffering from Paranoia, she's used to having some crazy in her life. But this is downright NUTS! (Gregory Sackville-Bagg/OC)
1. Call Me Jen

Edit 8/9/13:** I'm trying to re-write/edit this story, since I knew next to nothing when I first started it. I ****_still_**** don't know much, but I want to be able to look back at this story and not cringe at it's... Whatever it is that made my writing so ****_bad_****.**

Original intro**: Hi I'm Jaygrl22 I answer to my username, Jen, and Jay. This is my first story that I'm uploading so... be nice... Please.**

**Rated T for cursing, suggestive themes, and random violence/threats. And my humor, which can be a little mean. Ok, really mean.**

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Start Chapter One: Call me Jen

Pushing open the heavy door, I'm grateful for the wave of refreshingly cool night air. I pause in the threshold, taking a moment to refill my starved lungs with fresh oxygen. My world teeters a bit as I lazily watch the heat from my breath rise to the moon. Slowly, I wish Will, the doorman, a goodnight. My ears, aching from the loud music they'd been exposed to, barely hear his response.

"You be careful on your way home, now, lass," he tells me. I nod, moving away from the door. Not a moment later, a large group of girls in short skirts and dresses stumbles out. Their loud voices, thick with various British accents, hammer into my skull. I glance down at my own cold yet covered skin and wonder how they aren't freezing to death. I look up just in time to see one of them trip and land face first.

"Are you alright?" I ask, rushing to her side. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Mmm, why're you yelling, Mum?" The girl turned her head towards me. "I'm right 'ere." I push the dark chestnut hair out of her eyes. "You... You're not my mum."

"No, I'm not," I agree, tucking away my own golden strands. Slowly and carefully, I help the girl stand. She collapses into me and I, not quite sober and a natural klutz, nearly fall with her. After a moment of collecting myself, I'm able to shift her body comfortably against mine. I force her to walk with me as I study her bruising face. "Don't I know you?"

Her bloodshot eyes shift to my hazel ones. "You _do_?"

"That's what I'm asking."

_"What?"_

My face pulls into a scowl. "Never mind. Where do you live?"

"Uh... That way." She nods in a direction.

"You sure?"

"_Ah_..." She pauses then turns her head back to me. _"What?"_

"Never mind," I sigh. "_I'm_ going home. If you see something you recognize, let me know. Or I'll have to leave somewhere along the way."

"Well... Aren't you... _Sweet?_" She tries, and fails, to sound sarcastic.

"Sarah? Sarah, where are you?" Up ahead, the group of stumbling girls are spread out along the street. Searching high and low for this 'Sarah' person. My mouth forms a small O as the pieces fit into place. I know her now. This girl's in one of my classes. Or is her locker close to mine? I can't remember the specifics, but either way, I recognize her from school.

"She's over here!" I shout to the group, causing Sarah to grumble in annoyance. The girls walk over as quickly as they can, some nearly tumbling over their heels.

"Sarah, you idiot," the oldest says, pulling the girl away from me. "You followed the wrong person out! We turned around and you were _gone_."

"And of all the people to follow," another mutters," you had to follow the _American_." I glare at her, she must also be from my school, but all of their eyes are sharply trained onto anything that _isn't_ me. Grumbling under my breath, I start walking away.

"Buh bye!" Sarah calls. "See you at... uh... the place..." I wave a hand over my shoulder, knowing she won't likely remember this night and honestly not giving a shit.

* * *

I can't tell you how much time had past since I've left the club, only that I'm another fifteen minutes or so from home. That and my buns are freezing off. It's the one thing I can always count on this long walk to do: sober me up. Somewhere, deep in the crevasses of my tired, selfish mind, I wish my Aunt and Uncle lived closer. Bump in the Night is in probably one of the worst areas around. If anything, I should be grateful my family lives as far from it as they do.

Part of me wants to walk faster. Get home and into bed before someone tries to check up on me. The rest of me knows that's a dumb notion. This is _Scotland_, after all. Not California. Nobody here checks my room every twenty minutes, looking for ways to get me in trouble. Uncle Bob even caught me walking in one early, early morning and hardly made a fuss. It was only natural. He knew exactly what he'd been getting into when he agreed to take me in. After a quick, level-headed questioning on where I'd been and what I'd been doing, the extent of his lecture was: "Don't make it a habit. Bad things can happen after dark." Besides, I'm not _his_ kid. If _Tony_ was sneaking out after dark, for whatever possible reason an eight-year-old _would_, he'd probably flip his lid and ground him for a year. Not that it would really matter since the poor little dude doesn't have anyone to play with anyway.

Another chill runs down my back. Glancing out at the cemetery beside me, I start to pick up the pace. Something crawling out from the trees wants to drag me into a crypt. A dark, hungry creature wishes to feast upon my flesh, tear it piece by piece from my skin. A man with vile intentions coming up behind me. I can almost hear the zombies moan. Thankfully, I don't see or hear any of these things. For right now at least, it's only my imagination.

A twig snaps, and I freeze. Paranoia makes itself known. Bumps trickle along my skin, sweat rolls ever slowly down my back. I try to listen, but my heart hammers and my mind screams and I can't hear anything outside myself. I will cause my own death this way. I should run. But what if it catches me? What if I trip? I can't run. I'm stuck. Trapped. Eyes. Watching me. Everywhere. Eyes. I can feel them. A small gasp pulls me from my drowning thoughts. Blinking, my head slowly turns to the sound. It's almost familiar. I take deep breaths, a desperate attempt regain control over my body.

"If you don't come out now," my voice loud and threatening, "I swear, I'll go in their and cut your fucking head off!" After a few seconds, a small boy moves out of hiding. My eyes bulge and my jaw drops. "_Tony!?_ What the crap are you _doing _out here? Get over here!" He stays still for a moment, bends towards the bush he had been hiding behind, then reemerges. _"_Tony. _Here_. **_Now_**."

He shuffles quietly towards me, like a prisoner facing the gallows. Hands on my hips, I follow his movements sternly. But beneath my stoney gaze, I can feel the eyes watching me, as they always do. No, no. This time, they're studying. Actually, _waiting_ for me to make a mistake instead of prodding me beforehand. I am a little puzzled. Despite the minor change in behavior, I do my best to ignore them, as I usually do. When Tony finally reaches me, he looks so guilty it's almost pitiful. I sigh and kneel down to his level. He refuses to meet my gaze. My youngest cousin is not dumb; he knows when he's done wrong.

"You little idiot," I coo softly, ruffling his hair. "What do you think you're doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Playing," he mumbles.

I do a double take. "_Playing?_ Out _here? Alone?" _Scratch what I said, Tony's clearly not as smart as I thought. What could he have been _thinking_? He could've gotten hurt! Or kidnapped, or attacked, or —

"I wasn't alone. I was with Rudolph."

"Wha...?" I pull myself out of the panic. "_Who?"_

"He's my friend. From... school. He's been over a few times," he says quickly.

"Not since I've been here."

He shrugs. "He's got a big family thing coming up, so we can't hang out as much."

"So you hang out in graveyards at an ungodly hour, instead?" Tony nods, clearly hiding something. I frown at this prospect and cross myself. "I would like to meet this friend of yours, if you don't mind."

His face pales a bit. "Um, okay, I guess." He looks back to the bush he'd been hiding behind, unsure of what to do. I catch on quickly.

"Rudolph?" I call. "Could you come here, please?" Nothing happens. "You're not in any trouble, I just want to talk to you."

Tony tries as well. "It's okay, dude. My cousin's cool."

It takes a moment, but his friend finally comes out as another chill runs down my spine. Once again, I brush it off. Aside from his pale skin and strange clothes, there isn't much difference between him and a normal kid. As long as we aren't counting the whole 'playing in a graveyard at who knows what time of night' thing. The most striking thing is his eyes. Never in my life had I actually met someone with _red_ eyes. I try not to show it, but they make me feel like I've been transported into a horror film.

"Hello, Rudolph." I smile kindly. His face is tight and I can tell he's not 100% okay with trusting me. It's likely my own fault. I probably terrified the poor thing earlier, shouting about cutting heads and whatever.

"Hello," he says. Just the way I like kids: simple and polite.

"Dude, this is my cousin Jennive," Tony happily introduces. "Jen this is my best friend, Rudolph." I stick out my hand and for a split second he looks confused. He takes it in a way that makes me think he's about to kiss my knuckles, but after a quick glance between me and Tony, Rudolph awkwardly shakes it instead. I try really, _really_ hard not to laugh at the poor thing. His hand is cold as ice, but I don't mind. It's still freezing out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jennive."

"Please, call me Jen," I insist. It still feels like I'm being studied, and I'm starting to wonder if the 'sane' part of my mind is slipping further down the rabbit hole.

I've skimmed over some pretty serious cases of my disease. Mine isn't as — I don't want to say it _'isn't as bad_', because it's a still serious problem even if you _don't_ need 24-hour surveillance. The best way I can think to say it is: it affects my life, but I'm aware of the irrationality and understand that some of the things I perceive aren't actually real outside my head. Which is supposed to be a really big step. But am I being treated? _Nope_. Not anymore. Why you ask? Because my step-mother, whom is on the same level of Cinderella's, convinced my father I was just using the pills for a high. Can you even _get_ high of off an **_anti_**-psychotic? I remain to be unsure.

"Now," I return to the matter at hand, "what are the two of you doing out here so late? Or early?" Glancing to the side, I wonder whether or not it's past midnight.

"Tony and I were simply playing," Rudolph says innocently. _As _all_ guilty children do_, I tell myself.

"Honest, that's all we were doing," Tony chimed in. I study the two them briefly and roll my eyes.

"Ok, ok. I'll bite." They both look at each other then back at me. "You two were _only_ playing, but playtime's **over.** _You_," I point at Tony," have to get up early for school tomorrow, and _your _mother," I point to Rudolph," is probably worried sick." The boys nod. The pale one's smile holds mischief and a secret, but no trace of disrespect. So I smile, too. "Good boys. Now, Rudolph, where do you live?"

"Oh... It's... close by. Not far at all." My interests peek even higher. I've already made several excuses for this boy and his unusualness, surely he doesn't expect anymore.

"Then I can walk you home." It's _not_ a suggestion.

"N-No, really it's fine. Just past the cemetery. I will be home... home in a heartbeat!" He reassures me, smiling at his choice of words.

"Well... Alright, I guess. It just doesn't feel right leaving a kid alone in the middle of the night. In a_ cemetery_, no less." I gesture our surroundings.

"It's ok, Jen. Rudolph can take care of himself," Tony insists.

"I never said he couldn't, dork." I ruffle his hair again only to be met with a yawn. Taking his hand, I start to lead him away. "It was nice meeting you, Rudolph."

"The pleasure was mine."

"I'll see you later, dude," Tony managed through another yawn.

"Indeed. Goodnight, dude."

End Chapter

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**Sorry to say Gregory won't be joining us for a another few chapters. I don't like throwing the love interest into a story until I'm convinced the main character is completely settled.**


	2. Monday's Pizza

Edited: 8/09/13 

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Start Chapter Two: Monday's Pizza

I hate Mondays. I hate them because something in the cosmic universe always seems to make the worst things happen on either Monday or Sunday (so that you can still mope about it Monday). It's so unfair. Stupid Mondays. Mornings are stupid in general. I am thankful for one thing, though, come Monday mornings: my room faces west. Which means of course that there's very little sunlight in my room until about midday. So guess who's never up before noon on her own? This chick _right here_. Unfortunately, I have an annoying alarm clock and a persistent Aunt to wake me instead.

Actually, that's a lie, as I may or may not have thrown my alarm clock off my balcony last weekend. In my defense, it went off on at _seven_ in the morning on a _Saturday_. Coincidentally, my Uncle was mowing the grass on the western side of the house when I threw it. He ran it over by accident, thoroughly destroying the wretched thing. Pure coincidence, I swear. Really. I planned nothing.

But I still have my Aunt. Sadly, it seems that not even a locked door and blasting earphones can keep this woman from waking me. Rubbing my tired eyes, I trudge into the closet. The castle, as I call it, had been renovated in the late 80's, early 90's, and whoever owned it then took space from the bedroom to make a large, walk-in closet and bathroom. I really like the closet even though I don't have much to put in it, because it has special sections for everything (clothes, shoes, belts, etc.). Which is especially good for an unorganized teen such as myself. Not mention a really cool, built-in vanity.

Unfortunately, my school here has a uniform, and, _yes_, I hate it with a burning passion. It consists of an itchy, brown skirt, white blouse, matching brown tie, and a navy blue blazer with the school's emblem to my left. I try not to complain. At least it isn't some ungodly color like puke-green or valley-girl-pink. Most girls at my school either wear dark stockings or white knee-high socks with their uniform. We're not allowed to wear leggings though. So, since I only have two pairs of knee-highs and _hate _tights with a passion, I usually end up showing more leg than the others. The dress-code graciously only requires '_black_ _shoes'_, thus I naturally wear the ones I'm most comfortable with. My scruffy old Converse have produced many a debate amongst the school staff. A few teachers have pulled me aside, insisting that I would fit in better if I wore Mary-Janes or short heels, like the rest of my schoolmates. One old bat even offered to buy me some herself so I could "stop wearing that trash in her beloved school". At the very least, she has my respect for being upfront about it.

"Sup, Kiddo?" I ruffle Tony's hair sitting beside him. Aunt Dot hands me a plate of scrambled eggs, looking pleased as punch.

"Aren't you two _excited_?" She asks us, sounding like a kid herself. Tony and I glance at each other, neither of us able to think of anything 'exciting' about going to school. I don't hold my breath.

"About what?" Tony asks with beautiful nativity.

"Didn't I tell you? The McCashtons called you both yesterday! The younger two said they couldn't _wait_ to play with you again, Tony." The poor boy pales. My Aunt is oblivious. "And the older one said he couldn't stop thinking about you, Jen! How cute is _that!?_" I choke on my eggs. "You don't find boys like that anymore," she says wistfully.

There are times when I think witchcraft might seriously be real and this is one of them. How else could my otherwise _brilliant_ Aunt not realize that the twins from Hell want to destroy her baby? Or that Lucas meant he was thinking of ways to make my life worse than it already is? She tells us to hurry out to the car so we can see them quicker.

In my mind, there's a silent battle going on between the Thompsons and McCashtons. In fact, fuck the battle, this is war. The worse part is, I don't have any clue what set it off. Tony doesn't seem to know either. Everyday, those twin shitlings prod and tease my cousin for... I'm not really sure what. He's been on a vampire kick for sometime now, so I suspect that might have something to do with it. If they're anything like their older brother though, then they're probably just self-centered, self-entitled, bully elitists who need a good fist to the face.

The McCashton I have to deal with shares half my classes with me and is probably the most popular pretty boy this side of the _Atlantic_. Even _I_ have to admit he's got a nice face. Naturally, he'd be much better dating material if ruining my life wasn't one his favorite pastimes. He'd also be much cuter if he didn't say anything. Like... _Ever._

The ride to school is quiet. The radio is on, but Aunt Dot always keeps it lower than a hum. I consider screaming, but am too afraid of ripping the universe apart by breathing too loud. So I don't. My school is about five blocks closer to home than Tony's, which gives me five less to wonder what that bastard is going to do today. Sometimes, in fact a lot of times now that I think about it, he doesn't do anything at all and we live our own lives. But he's made bullying me the hip, new trend; so people trip, mock, and alienate me in hopes of getting on his good side. He never seems to notice, so people do bigger, ruder things until he acknowledges _something,_ then starts the game all over again. It pisses me off like crazy. Even more so because I _know_ I could take him down, but he's one of those guys who's always surrounded by a small legion of dudebros and fangirls. It'd be dumb to try and settle things while so outnumbered. Despite that, every time he opens his mouth and looks at me with those eyes, the same icy blue as _that woman_, I feel my resolve slip a little more. It's only a matter of time, something says, before I snap and they see. I push the voice away.

The car rolls to a stop and my Aunt turns to me, smiling. "Okay, Jen. Have a good day at school." I thank her, closing the door. "Don't have too much fun with that boyfriend of yours," she says sending me a girlish wink. I feel the blood drain from my face and through the window I can see an equally shocked cousin. She pulls off before I can correct her. It's impossible _not_ to shake my head as she drives away.

With heavy limbs, I wander inside the main building towards my first class. The bell won't ring for another 20 minutes or so, but I never have anything better to do anyway. Some bitch makes a snide comment as I pass her locker, but I'm still digesting my Aunt's insanity, so it bounces right off. I enter the classroom and sit quietly in my seat. There are a few other students already here, as well; drawing, studying, reading manga. Things I have little talent or interest in. I pull out my phone and send a mass text to my friends back home: '_Save me_.' After five minutes of failing tetris so hard the Russians want me taken out via mafia hit squad, I get a reply.

'_Here's my 8 point plan: 1) you dress like a alpaca 2) i fake a seizure at the airport while wearing a poncho and mustache 3) we get hammered 4-6) ? 7) $$$ PROFIT $$$ 8) ur saved! And rich! You'r welcome.'_

I smile at the sheer idiocy. Lindsay, my closest friend, is always the first to text me back, no matter what. I get a few more texts from a few more people as I respond to her. It's enough to keep me distracted until class starts. Once the first bell rings, I put the phone away. As annoying as it sounds, my phone is my lifeline. If anyone takes it from me, and some have tried, I'll surely blackout and murder them by accident. Hell only knows what these fucking snobs might do with my baby to get that asshole's attention.

Most of the class comes through the door at about the same time and Lucas strolls in with his posse moments before the final bell. His seat is a few behind mine so he always walks past me, gives me a look, then an annoying smile without stopping. Today is no different. Mr. Wilson starts the class and we all doze off a bit as he drones on and on about British history. Afterwards, I head to Biology, which is 200 times better than History simply because Lucas isn't in it. Mrs. McDonald, pregnant with what must be her third child, is surprisingly absent and I listen to the rumors and squabbling around me more than the substitute. After break, which I spend isolated in the library, throwing rulers behind the librarian's back, it's literature and math; both of which I share with Lucas.

Lunch rolls around and I'm surprisingly unscathed. To celebrate my not-death, I buy a piece of pizza and head into the thicket of hungry students. Another girl says something as I pass her and her friends. They all giggle. I glance over my shoulder and they are indeed looking at me, waiting for something to happen. I'm shoved and trip towards a crowded table.

I both feel and _hear_ my pizza smash into someone's face. A tense hush blankets the lunchroom, snuffing out all conversation within it. My face is burning hot. Slowly, I remove my plate from the boy's face. Once I see who it is, I want to slit my throat with a plastic knife. Because who _else_ would I pizza-face but Lucas himself?

His eyes, colored cold, pierce my own with icy rage. Clearly, he wants to snap my neck in half and throw me downstream. Hell, I'm half tempted to let him. With all the awkwardness of a thousand suns, I take a spare napkin from the table and start wiping down his sauced, and now _shocked_, face. I swipe a few more from the guy sitting next to Lucas and get the majority of the mess off. Clearing my throat loudly, I mumble an apology before rushing to the library; my silent sanctuary.

I fucking _hate_ Mondays.

End Chapter Two

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**Monday's are bad for your health.**

Edit: 8/09/13 **If you're reading this after **AUGUST 9TH, 2013**, there is a high possibility the following chapters are written in ****_PAST_****-tense, as that's how the original story was. If a chapter has been edited ****_before_**** August 9th, 2013, it will ****_still_**** be in past-tense. Because of my pure dumb-assery. :) Hope you guys still like it!**


	3. Homework Babysitting Burglar

Edited: August 25, 2013.** Oma = Grandma & Opa = Grandpa in German. Just fyi.**

**Hi! Just real quick: Jen ****_hates_**** homework, so whenever she gets writing assignment she tends to just rant in a humorous way. (****_She_**** finds it funny. Her teachers usually don't). So remember, essay below = Jen's humor... sort of. **

**... I'm blabbing again... sorry ^^; Oh, and apparently there's a lot more cussing in this one... w/e.**

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Start Chapter Three: Homework. Babysitting. Burglar.

First thing's first when I get home: out of the uniform. I'm not a fan of skirts begin with, and short, itchy ones were surely invented just to piss me off. After putting on something more reasonable, like jeans or a pair of shorts, I always go back downstairs for a snack or two. Then, and only then, will I start my homework.

Today, I have been graced by the Gods of Homework. Personally, I think they feel sorry for me after what happened at lunch. Who knew Homework Gods could be so understanding? Only 12 math problems, my worst subject, and a writing assignment for German, my best.

My mother was from Germany and spoke her native tongue any chance she got. Even if it was just sounding off the grocery list or mumbling to herself over people's shoddy driving skills. My Opa speaks a little English, and my Oma can read and write it. She refuses to speak it, though, saying the language isn't as pretty when spoken. Since I had to know the basics growing up just to speak with them, it's been fairly easy to learn the language as a whole. But despite my roots, I'm still shit with the grammar.

Tonight's assignment is as follows: Write to a new pen-pal in Germany. Tell him/her a few things about yourself and explain in detail. Don't forget to write questions for your pen-pal. Four to five paragraphs, 6+ sentences per paragraph. Have fun!

I'm assuming that the 'fun' part is sarcastic and in no way manditory. Regardless, here's what I've written so far:

_Dear new pen-pal,_

_You want to know about me? Okay. I'm a hateful person and gladly admit it. I hate Schools, I hate Mondays, I hate homework. I hate that I moved to Scotland (on a Monday). I hate math and math homework. I hate preppy kids, I hate annoying kids, I hate annoying people. I hate most people because they're annoying assholes._

_Would you like to know more? I'm a fighter, not a lover. I admit that I can be nice. I can be very nice. I can be the nicest person in the world. I could be so nice that if a friend of mine called me at three o' clock in the morning on a Saturday just to '_talk_', I wouldn't try to kill them. You're laughing aren't you? You should be. Do you want to know what happened to my alarm clock? It woke me up at _**_seven_**_, and look what happened to it. _**_No one_**_ is going to to call me at three in the morning. Because we all know that if someone calls me at three in the morning, regardless of the day, I am going to yell. I am going to scream and curse and try to kill that person next time I see them. You know this, I know this, my friends know this, which is why no one _**_does_**_ this. _

_Do you want me to continue? Because now I want to talk about boys. I've had three boyfriends, only one long term. My first smothered me to death and likes to say I never showed him enough affection. I can admit now that I did not like him as much as he liked me. I'm still good friends with Chase, my second, whom I was with the longest. My third, after maybe a month after dating, gave me a purity ring. Saying that I needed to give guys a warning and that no one wanted to date a prude. As you can imagine, it did not end well for him._

_Why am I telling you all of this? I'm not sure. Maybe it's to pass the time as I ignore my math homework, a task I've already told you I hate. Maybe it's because I want to get on a friendlier level with you. I feel we're too distant, you and I. Why, I'm writing my life's story on a piece of paper, and in some far away land you're reading it. (Why on earth am I writing this in pen?) Yes, we're far too distant. Let's become friends. Close friends. Not too close, though. I might bite._

_What are you like?_

There's a knock at my door. "Yeah?" Aunt Dot opens it, wearing a beautiful dress. Already knowing what she wants, I pick up my phone and say in a pompous tone: "Thompson's Babysitting Institute. This is Ms. Thompson speaking, how may I assist you?"

My aunt smiles and creates a 'phone' with her hand. "Hello, this is Mrs. Thompson, I'm calling for a babysitter for this evening."

"Ah, Mrs. Thompson. So good to hear from you again. How long will you be in need of our services?"

"From about six to... well... _late_."

"May I ask the wages you're willing to give?"

"How does the usual twenty sound?"

Making a few pondering sounds, I pick up my math book, flip to a random page, and run my finger down it. "Very well. We'll send someone right over."

"The usual, please. My son likes her the best."

"Will do. Ta-ta!"

"Goodbye." We both 'hang up'. "Thanks, Jen. You're a lifesaver."

"You know it," I say in my normal voice as she walks out.

Looking back down at my math book, I flip to the page assigned by Mr. Clark. My math homework, in all its glory, stares up at me. I glare back. Kudos to those who like it, lucky bastards, but for me: math equals headaches multiplied by frustration. Lindsay used to tutor me, but it's harder for her to help in a different time zone.

By the way, why, in America, do we insist on using Feet and Fahrenheit while the rest of the world uses Centimeters and Celsius? Why do we have such a big problem with the letter 'C'? And why do we favor the letter 'F' as it's replacement? And why, when we don't like the 'C's and prefer the 'F's, do we use the _metric system_ in our science classes? I know our scientists and scientists from everywhere else need to have the same means of measurement and crap, but just... _why_? Do people even _trust_ our scientists anymore? I usually tend not to. But, then again, I don't trust a lot of people.

I'm stalling. I don't like math. But I need to buckle down and _just do it_. Nikes. Ok, seriously now. Wait, what time is it? 5:37. Okay, I can do my math now. Wait, am I cooking dinner? Yeah, Aunt Dot was already in her spiffy dress, she's _not _cooking in that. I'll kick her out of the kitchen myself if I have to. Alright, _now_ I can do my math. Wait, what will I make? Do we have anything eatable in the house? What if Uncle Bob and Aunt Dot are secretly running off and leaving Tony and I for death? No, no, no. They wouldn't do that to him. I think I saw some Macaroni and Cheese in the cupboard yesterday. I can make that. Okay. _Now_ I can _really_ do my math homework.

There's another knock. "Doing math," I shout to the person on the other side.

"Can I come in?" Tony asks through the wood.

"Sure, kiddo." He opens the door. "What's up?" I move my math book aside.

"Are you sneaking out tonight?"

"Wasn't gonna. Why? Scared to be alone in this big, empty castle in the middle of the night?" I tease.

"No." _Liar_. "I wanted to know if I could go to Rudolph's house tonight."

"I'd prefer if you didn't." His face drops. "But hey, if it's alright with his parents, he can come over later."

"_Really!?_" He screams, nearly jumping off the walls.

"Yes, but after dinner. We're having Mac and Cheese, okay?"

"Okay!" He shouts, running out of my room. I shake my head at his silliness.

* * *

It's 8:59. My math homework _still _isn't finished. I've done everything else: shower, fed the child, fed myself, checked emails, thought about doing math homework, got a soda from downstairs instead, read a few chapters in a book, watched The Daily Show and The Colbert Report over the internet. But I'm doing it now, with my headphones blaring.

There aren't that many questions, but they've all got at least three parts to them, multiplying the amount of time and work I have to put in. I hate not being done with my homework after nine o' clock. Because after nine o' clock_ 'I don't give a crap' _becomes my main thought process. I don't get a problem after nine? I don't give a crap. I can't remember how to do a problem after nine? I don't give a crap. If there is a God, let him damn this last word problem. You know what? I don't give a crap. Know what else? It's_ 9:01_.

Closing my book, I chuck it across the room. It lands in my closet with a loud _THUMP!_ and something else in there smacks to the floor. It didn't sound like glass, so I leave whatever it is alone and go to check on Tony instead. I knock on his door, wait eight seconds before assuming he's responded, and stroll in. Tony's standing there, in the middle of his room, looking dumbfounded in the dark. With his nightlight, _which he never admits is a nightlight_, on. I stare at him, and him at me.

"Sup?" I ask. Stupid, since I can't hear much over Bjork screaming at me about rescue squads. I think he says "Nothing" but he also could've said _"Muffling_". Pulling off my headphones, a blast of heavy music fills the room. "_What_?"

"I said _nothing_," he says a little _too_ calm.

"Hiding something?"

"No! I mean, _no_."

I prop myself against the doorframe, amused. "_No_? _Really_? My, my, my. What a_ good_ boy you are, Tony. Not to mention, one of the _worst_ liars I've ever known. Spill."

"Really, it's nothing. I'm fine."

The song 'Liar' by Emilie Autumn starts to play. It's so fitting, I have to chuckle. Tony gulps. The intro is about a minute long, and even after the singing starts, there is no progress between our conversation. I don't like the way Tony's looking at me. Not only is he obviously hiding something, but he's scared now, too. Scared of me.

We—me and his parents—had to tell him about my condition when I first moved here, because, having just been taken off my meds, I was acting a little crazier than usual. We had to tell him I'm a Paranoid Schizophrenic, what that means, what caused it, and how to handle me during a bad fit, or 'attack', when his parents aren't around. He's looked at me differently ever since, and I hate it. I shouldn't have written that down in my assignment._ I hate that my younger cousin is afraid of me. Sometimes, I'm afraid of me, too_.

"I'll be down in the dungeon if you need me," I say, ending the stare down. He nods quickly and I turn down the hall, putting my headphones back on and turning the volume down a bit.

Heading downstairs, something doesn't feel right. Like I'm being followed. I know it can't be Tony because he would have done something to get my attention by now. He's no stealth master so, even though my music's loud, I would have noticed his heavy footsteps. But Tony's the only one in the house. So who else could be following me? It _could_ just be me, the Paranoia, but that doesn't feel right, either. I'm _watched_ and _judged_ by Paranoia. Not _followed _and_ studied_. Well, not _usually, _anyway.

My imagination—imagination, not Paranoia—jumps to several conclusions at once; a burglar, a murderer, or a monster. Hell, it could be all three. My imagination is not as detailed as Paranoia, nor so believable. Imagination doesn't twist my reality, but like everyone else it can make me nervous and uncomfortable over nothing. Reaching the kitchen, I quickly note that a castle can feel mighty eerie went it's dark out. Especially when being hunted down by people who aren't there.

I open the door to go down to the cellar/dungeon. Which begs the question, _why_ in their right minds would someone build the entrance to a cellar, which very well could have been a torture chamber back in the day, right next to the damn kitchen? Did people _like_ hearing screams of agony as they prepared supper? I certainly wouldn't, but hey, people in the olden days needed some entertainment, too.

Okay, I swear I just heard something. I think... Maybe... Pulling out my ipod, I turn it down a little more to be safe. After quietly waiting a moment, and hearing nothing, I decide that everything's fine and that whatever it was was just a part of the song.

Letting the music relax and wash over me, I reach the bottom of the cellar. Digging through this place sends me on roller coaster. There are boxes, chests, tall bookcases, scattered trinkets, strange objects, and a few huge wardrobes that look anywhere from the 15th century and beyond. All treasures and doorways in their own right.

I rummage through a trunk, filled with clothes from the 60's or 70's. Pulling out a few shirts, I notice an old, full-body mirror and a matching wardrobe that could _easily_ be a few centuries old further in the room. Both covered in generous amounts of dust. I grab a spare thing of fabric, clamber over to the mirror, and wipe it down. Pulling off my shirt, I try one of the other ones on. Though it desperately needs to be washed, it's pretty cute and fits comfortably. This shirt has now been claimed in the name of Jennive. After trying on the rest, I put my original shirt back on and climb over a few piles of the unknown to get back to the open area.

Tossing my new shirts on a small, black table, I rest the headphones around my neck. Giving my eardrums a well deserved break, but still insisting on the music. If it was absolutely silent, it'd be creepy enough down here to give me at least a mild attack. Feeling studied doesn't help either. Continuing to ignore it, I head over to one of the many bookcases and pull a random book from its shelves. Like most of the things down here it's absolutely _caked_ in cobwebs and dust. I blow it all off as best I can before opening it. The book is in German. I pull another off the same shelf and it too is filled with German. I take out one more, and it's the same.

"Now _this_ is cool." I put the latter two away smiling. I've never had much chance to read actual German books. All of Mom's went into storage, along with most of her things. Sticking me with mere children's books. I go back to the table, which looks like in belongs in a rose garden, and sit down. A few matching chairs are scattered around, including the one housing my buttocks.

Linkin Park starts playing, but doesn't get much of my attention. The book is old with rough, yellowed pages and frayed ends. A musty smell hits me as I crack the spine. It's filled words that look familiar but leave me puzzled and words that don't look familiar at all. Some are too smudged or faded to tell. I can barely understand half of it. The cover, too, is too dirty and faded to read. I give up for the moment and grab my new shirts before heading back upstairs. The book comes with me.

Groaning, I realize I'm being followed again. Whoever they are, I'm going to shoot them. Fictional or not.

End Chapter Three

* * *

**Anyone got a gun she can borrow? She'll give it back... Maybe.**


	4. A Madman and a Corpse

Edited: September 1, 2013. **Side-note: Super happy with how it turned out. :)**

**W00t! Gregory shows up! 'Course, its probably the most short lived meeting in the universe, but w/e. Gotta start somewhere, right?**

* * *

Start Chapter Four: A Madman and a Corpse.

After coming up from the cellar last night, I checked on Tony. The little man was passed out, not in his pajamas and on top of the covers. I pulled off his shoes and maneuvered him under the blankets before heading to my own room. The burglar/murderer/ninja/assassin/vampire thing continued to follow me. Not only did I have to close my closet door as I changed, it felt like someone was staring. Waiting for me to come out. My imagination insisted on the mirror in the cellar being haunted and a vengeful spirit trying to kill me in addition to everything else. The feeling refused to go away.

Naturally, I had a hard time falling asleep. _Staying_ asleep was practically impossible. The first time I woke up, there had been a slight _thud_. Not as loud as my math book earlier, but clearly audible. In the back of my mind, a picture of my Aunt and Uncle stumbling up the stairs sent me back to sleep. Second time, I thought something cold was touching my arm. When I went to swipe whatever it was off, it was already gone. The third and final time, I have no clue why I woke up. Only that when I did, a dark silhouette with blood red eyes was staring straight at me. I jolted up in bed, ready to scream, but he/it/they were already gone. Rubbing my eyes like mad, I turned on the lamp beside my bed. The room was empty. Or rather, it _looked_ like it was empty. The air around me told a different story. I wasn't alone, and I wasn't safe.

Quietly, I crept out of bed, grabbing a pen from my nightstand and holding it like a knife. I opened my bedroom door carefully and grimaced when it let loose an obnoxious _creeeeeeeak_. With just enough space to squeeze my whole head out, the hallway was found unoccupied and undisturbed. Slowly, I closed the door and moved towards the balcony. Through the window, the world appeared dark. The outline of trees was visible, unlocking the glass door and stepping outside only made them more so. Everything was coated in a blanket of soft purple and blue, the veil becoming thinner and thinner by the minute. With no red-eyed man or creature insight, I gave a heavy sigh and went back inside.

Though my search had left me empty handed, I still didn't feel safe. So instead of turning out the light and heading back to bed, I sat quietly against the wall. Waiting. For what, I don't really know. Only when the sky was far too bright to still be considered night did I finally return to slumber. It feels like my eyes just closed when Aunt Dot walks in.

I pull a pillow over my head and groan, "_Guh away..."_

"Come on, Jen. Rise and shine!" My Aunt says shaking me lightly.

"_Nooo..._"

"Come on. Up, up, up."

"_Leh me sleep_..."

"I don't think so." She lifts my pillow and lets gravity drop it upon my head. It falls off the side of my bed and I reach to rescue it. Through some miscalculation, I wind up on the floor instead. "Are you alright?!" She asks immediately.

After a moment of tapping my fingers against the floorboard, I pick myself up. "If I say 'no', will you let me stay home and sleep?"

"Absolutely not."

"_Fine," _I stretch my achy limbs_, "_but if anyone gives me crap today, I reserve the right to punch them in the face."

She rolls her eyes, but continues to smile. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'm pretty sure assault is still a misdemeanor in Scotland."

I start to grumble a response, but am overtaken by a vicious _CRACK_. My Aunt and I stare at each other widely.

"Was that your _neck_?" She asks. It was.

"Am I _dead_?"

She looks a little concerned with my response then shakes her head. "You're alive."

I nod solemnly, finding this news both good and bad. My Aunt awkwardly leaves the room and I crawl back into bed. After snuggling with one of my pillows for another minute, she pops her head back in.

"_Jennive._"

"M'up, I'm up."

Before I even reach the bathroom, I already know my hair is tangled and self-styled into an ungodly mess of gold. The lack of sleep has done a number on me and my mirrored-self is nothing short of laughable. As predicted, my hair is ratty and sticking up in strange angles, not unlike a lion's main. Even so, it's not as bad as the rest of me. There are dark circles, bloodshot eyes, and deep lines that seem comical on a girl so young. It dawns on me that I look like my father. The smile disappears from my reflection.

I brush my teeth and tame my bedhead quickly. Moving towards the closet, I'm already halfway undressed. Slowly, my uniform is reconstructed for another day. My half-dead brain cannot tie a tie for the life of me, so my hands leave it sloppy and uneven. Part of me worries it'll be more ammunition for the bullies, but the rest of me is too tired and edgy to care. If anyone starts anything with me today, God help them.

Too exhausted to bend over, I flop into the seat of my vanity to tie my shoes. For some reason, my coverup is on the floor and the casing is slightly cracked. Picking it up, I flick it open and start smearing the product across my face. It helps hide my flaws but since using it puts such a huge dent my ego, it's only ever a last resort.

I want sleep.

Returning to my bed, I crawl and plop down on the pillows once more. What I wouldn't give to stay home today. I don't feel like dealing with high school today, or whatever they call it here. A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, right? Well, high schoolers are high schoolers regardless of name or country and they're all assholes. Lucas is of course the worst I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. I've never even _done_ anything to him.

"Wait..." Yesterday's pizza-face fiasco taunts me like a scratched record, repeating the humiliation over and over again. I jump out of bed and start pacing. "Oh no, oh _no_! Now he has _motive_! Goddamn it, _everyone_ has motive! I'm screwed. I'm dead. There's over a thousand kids at that school willing to _sell their _**_soul_** just for that asshole to _notice_ them. This is... Fuck, I just made it open hunting season!"

Somehow, I'm sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"Of course, they can't just come up and attack me, but high schoolers are evil, _tricky_ things. Make stuff look like accidents; push me into a locker, claiming crowded hallways; throw things at me, then have someone else throw things from another direction; taunting me, teasing me, grinding away my pride and spirit until I kill myself! _No_!"

I force myself to breathe. I'm jumping to conclusions. I need to calm down. Calm down. _Breathe_. Not everyone is out to get you. Not—well, most of them—but not _all_ of them. You can do this. You can _do_ this. And if you can't, just take whoever you can down with you. I nod, agreeing with myself.

"I can do this. I can _do_ this."

It feels like someone's watching me again. Not like last night when I thought something was stalking me. This time, it feels like someone's sitting with me, letting me vent. I look around and listen closely for any voices or hallucinations but find myself completely alone. A bit of fuzzy whispering starts up in the back of my mind, but it's only background noise. Ignorable. I hunt down my math book and sling my schoolbag over my shoulder before going downstairs for breakfast.

Just as I sit at the table, a truck pulls into our driveway. It's probably the strangest contraption I've ever seen; overrun with countless headlights, spotlights, and God knows what else on it. It reminds me of a Lego set my parents and I failed to construct as a child, disorganized and sporadic. It shrieks to a stop and the growling, panting engine is silenced. A strangely dressed man climbs out, smoking a cigar. His clothes are all black, made of old leather, and ready for Hell and high water.

At some point, Tony decided to take refuge under the table. Aunt Dot and I share a look, then shrug. We crouch down to stare at her strange son. He smiles and greets us like estranged guests at a party.

"Hello."

"Care to explain what you're doing under there, kiddo?"

"Not really." I smile at the silly boy before flicking him on the forehead. We're interupted by three loud knocks echoing from the front room. Aunt Dot scoots out her chair.

"I'll get it," I say already going for it. She thanks me before returning to her son, insisting he sit up and finish his breakfast. The man raises a thick, messy brow when I open the door. A schoolgirl with a deadly scowl is clearly not who he was expecting.

"Can I _help_ you?"

"I'd like with speak the man of the house."

"Not here. Something called _working_. What do you want?"

"It's not a _woman's_ conversation," he insists without shame.

My glare intensifies. "Why not? I'm a chick and you're a dick, I think it'd be a lovely conversation." His face falls. He tries to hide his anger with a smile and a single, airy chuckle. A common ruse that fails to fool any child or teen deemed 'infuriating' by adults. Regardless, he tries again, as if I was hiding a father or older brother somewhere in the folds of my skirt.

"Well, I wouldn't want to **scare **you."

"Look, if you got something to say, say it because if the two of us waste anymore time, my cousin and me are gonna be late."

He stares at me, taking a long drag off that fat, godawful cancer stick. "You got family in there?"

"Obviously."

"You care about them?"

"_Duh._"

"You want to protect them?"

"From _what_? Secondhand smoke?" I wave my hand to get the fumes away from my face and out of my lungs.

He puffs on the cigar, leaning in close. "From vampires," he whispers.

"Vampires?"

"Aye."

"_Vampire_ vampires?" I repeat, mindlessly checking my pockets for antipsychotics.

"Aye."

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me. I think you've been reading too much '_Twilight_'... Or, _no_, your probably more of a '_Interview With A Vampire_' type, right?"

He laughs at me. "You think they're just fiction, eh, girlie? Well, let me tell you something: I've seen 'em. With my own eyes. They've been around this area in particular, an' I'm going to hunt 'em down and destroy their filthy race."

This man is insane.

"Good luck with that, sir," I say inching the door shut. "If I had any meds on me, I'd give you some, but I don't. So, bye." He stops the door with a bulky boot. _Crap_. This guy's out of his mind, clearly dangerous, and unfortunately strong.

"Have you ever felt unsafe? Like something was there, watchin' you with red, hungry eyes, waiting to pounce?"

I'm about to say, 'yes, I'm legally Paranoid, dick-face.', but something catches me.

"Red eyes? What do you mean _red _eyes?"

"Red eyes. Pale skin. Cold. Bloodthirsty." He starts walking away, spitting on the ground in disgust. "Them bloodsuckers are all the same. Least three of 'em were around here last night. Far as I know, one never left. Wouldn't be surprised if someone in yer family went missing tonight."

The bastard's mocking me.

"Say that again and _you'll_ go missing." He gets into his truck and I slam the door loudly.

Staring at the wood, my mind whirls with information. He clearly needs a _lot_ of help, but red eyes are red eyes. Last night I _saw_ red eyes,_ felt_ something cold,_ heard _something move. Something _was_ in my room last night. Something _had_ to be. I'm not that crazy, right? The background noise has gotten louder, like people moving around me in a crowded station. Words like 'help', 'crazy', and 'danger' are jumping out at me, making it harder to think. The man said, as far as he knew, one something didn't leave. Something could still_ be_ in my room.

An eery feeling bleeds out from the upstairs hallway. It's threatening me, testing me, calling me towards it. Walking up the stairs, every siren in my head starts going off, telling me to turn back. Something in the back of my mind softly pushes me forward. Keep going, it says. The closer I get to my room, the louder the sirens and voices become; shrieking and blaring against my skin. Everything quiets once I step inside, but the eery feeling continues. To my left is nothing suspicious, nor to my right. I look up—because that's where no one _ever_ looks and there's _always_ something there when no one looks—but still nothing. I tense. Was that noise inside my head or on the outside? It doesn't repeat. The whispers are starting up again, leaving me clueless.

I tiptoe over to my closet. There is nothing. To be sure, I push some of the hangers out of my way. Nothing there, either. My room feels brighter than normal and the voices gossip about this as I check my bathroom. The shower curtain is wide open. Part of me thinks to look behind the toilet, but that would just be silly. Returning to the main room, my eyes hone in on my bed. Particularly the bedskirt surrounding it, hiding the underneath from view.

It's the _only_ place I haven't looked yet. The only spot left. I just need to check it, find nothing, laugh at myself, then get on with my life. Simple. Easy. Not at all nerve wracking. Not at all. Nope.

Cautiously moving towards it, the erratic beating in my chest has summoned a few pairs of eyes. They circle me, giggling, as I get on my hands and knees. My heart's pounding in my throat and exploding in my ears. Delicately, I pick up a piece of the bedskirt and lower my head to gaze underneath. Oh sweet merciful _FUCK._

There's a body under my bed. The body stays perfectly still. Doesn't rise or fall in a steady rhythm. Doesn't stir even the slightest. It—_he_—is dead. The _Hell_...? What...? How? Am I...? My mind keeps trying to process the situation but can only cut itself off with newer and newer tangents.

I keep staring at it—_him_. He—_the body_—is lying perfectly straight. Eyes closed, mouth tight, his hands lightly folded and mostly hidden by tattered biker gloves. His skin is pale and his clothes are strange. Old jeans, striped vest, long coat, and some kind of choker. Everything is either dirty, torn, or just plain worn-out. It's surprising to me how peaceful he looks. The only other dead body I've seen was my mother's and she didn't look so... Well... It was a closed casket funeral.

She she she's dead dead dead, the eyes chant. It's your your your fault fault. They start laughing.

I squeeze mine shut. "Just go away," I beg them. "_Go away_." They don't listen. Neither does the corpse. He's still laying there. Or is he? Is he _really _there? Grabbing at one of the eyes, my hand goes right through it. My fingers tingle, expecting to feel something, anything. It's like fog, thick and noticeable, but not like a real eye would or should. I reach out for the body, touching it's shoulder. My hand doesn't faze through, not even a little bit, and he doesn't feel like fog. He's solid. He's **_real._** He's staring at me with Hellfire eyes.

He moves and my body lurches back, screaming, falling over itself until I land hard on my ass a few feet away.

"Fuck... What... What... _fuck_?" My fingers are drumming madly against the floorboards. It's impossible to stop them. Tony is in my room.

"What happened?" He asks quickly.

"Nothing. Nothing. I fell."

He moves a little closer. "Jen, are you—"

"I'm _fine_!" I didn't mean to shout, but I did, and Tony's looking at me like that again. Like crazy's all I am now. "Sorry, I... Sorry, I'm... edgy. I didn't sleep well last night."

He's nodding. He's nodding and backing away slowly—just like we told him to—without any sudden movements. Once he's out of my sights, he's running down the hall. Burying my face in my hands, I let out a frustrated moan. Aunt Dottie's going to come in here any moment and start talking to me in _that_ tone. That unnaturally kind, placid lilt people think helps. It _doesn't_. It's _insulting_. When I need stability, I need something strong on the outside to hold on to, not mockery. It's even more insulting when I _don't_ need to be grounded, when I'm okay. Mildly okay.

Peeking through my fingers, the bed is the first thing I see. Crawling back over to it, I lift the bed skirt again. The alive-but-not-breathing boy opens his eyes again and looks at me. The color is enticing and almost magical. I have to fight off a strange feeling before I can even _attempt_ to look at the rest of him. His features are defined yet boyish, undoubtably placing him in his mid/late teens. His hair is dark and longer than most, pieces of it look red and spike out like a crown.

"Holy sh—I mean, hi." There is a long, pregnant pause.

"Hello," he says through a stiff jaw. We're both quiet. He doesn't seem to trust me and I don't know what to say. It feels like it should be the reverse. He's in _my_ room, after all. Someone knocks lightly on the open door. Sitting up quickly, my Aunt stands in the doorway, hands visible, with a small, professional smile. She thinks I'm having an attack.

"Hey, Jen. Is everything okay?" Just as I predicted, she's using the tone.

"I'm fine."

"Do you need anything?"

"_No_, I'm _fine_. I snapped a little at Tony and he freaked out."

"Why did you snap?"

"Because I'm _tired _and _edgy_."

She looks from me to my bed. "What were you just doing, Jennive?"

"Can you stop talking to me like that, please? I'm _fine_. Can't you tell by the attitude?"

"What were you doing?" The tone is gone, but it's been replaced by the 'Don't give me attitude' snap.

"I dropped... Well, first, I fell over and now I'm looking for my phone. I dropped it."

Aunt Dot accepts this. "Are you almost ready to go?"

"Just gimme a sec to find my phone. Is Tony ready yet?"

From down the hall, we hear him call out: "Mom! Can you help me?"

"Sure thing, honey!" Aunt Dot shouts back. She glances at me and I smile. Her faces is concerned but she doesn't say anything as she leaves the room. I pick up the bedskirt once more, confused with how the dead-but-not-dead guy hasn't yet disappeared back into the crevices of my mind.

"You really _are_ real, aren't you?"

His brows furrow and his lips pull into a scowl.

"No, not like that!" I say quickly. "I mean like: I'm not crazy, right? You're actually real, _right_? 'Cause you're not breathing, dude. You're _literally_ not breathing. But you're moving and you spoke, and like—Are you a zombie-vampire or something? No, sorry, I didn't mean—" I'm an idiot. "Lemme start again. My name's Jennive. What's yours?"

"It..." He pauses. His face gives nothing away, but somewhere in the sea of red I can see flickering waves of doubt and trust crashing against one another. To speak, or remain quiet. To open, or remain closed. This is a battle I know far too well.

"Gregory," he says finally. "My name is Gregory."

"Gregory, huh?" The name sounds different coming from me. Only two syllables instead of three, murdering it's formality. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Gregory. Care to explain why you're under my bed?"

"Jennive! Let's _go!"_ My Aunt shouts from downstairs.

I glance towards the hall, "_Crap_," then back to him. "Never mind. Don't touch my stuff. Later."

With that, I'm up and out the door, rushing down the stairs at a dangerous speed. Aunt Dot's reaching for her purse, and I grab my schoolbag. We go out to the car together. By the time she starts it up, I'm already lost in thought. Was that Gregory guy really a vampire? Why was he under my bed? Was _he_ following me around last night? What a fucking stalker, that's so creepy. Dear God, does he want to _eat me?_ Did I just swap pleasantries with my future killer? For Heaven's sake, Jennive, what's _wrong_ with you!?

Something else is bothering me, too. He looked familiar. Like, _really_ familiar. Through the rearview mirror, I see Tony staring out the window. It only takes a second before things start to click. I spin around like a viper fixating on it's prey. My cousin sees this and immediately freezes, afraid I might strike.

"You know that friend of yours? Rudolph?"

His eyes bulge for a moment. "Uh... Y-Yeah?"

"Just wondering, does he have any siblings?"

He nods. "A brother and a sister."

"Names?"

"Gregory and Anna. Why?"

I face forward in my seat. "I met someone recently, and he kind of looked like your friend, so I was just wondering."

"It probably wasn't Gregory."

"No?"

"No, he's kinda... Not... uh..." He's struggling, which gives away more than I need.

"I believe you, Tony. If you don't think it was him, then it probably wasn't him."

"Did you meet him at night?" He asks. Aunt Dot glances over at me quickly, before putting her eyes back on the road.

"I don't talk to strangers after dark. It's this guy at my school."

"Then, yeah, it wasn't him." The rest of the car ride is silent.

* * *

Just stepping into the school building, it's obvious that today's going to be difficult. I walk to my class like any other day, but the whispers, both inside and out, are loud and obnoxious. Ignoring one set of voices means listening to the other. The ones on the outside put down my appearance: unkempt uniform, wild hair; using my nationality as a negative: fat-ass American this, American slut that. Inside my head, the voices are frothing with anger and glee; am I going to let them speak that way, they're right of course, I'm nothing, I'm I'm dead dead, WATCH OUT! **WATCH OUT!** **_WATCH OUT!_**

I visibly wince at the sound, a number of people start laughing. Someone throws a pen at me, it hits my bag. The first bell rings. Another someone trips me, but I catch myself. Entering my classroom, the amount of people who start smiling and giggling is unnerving. On the chalkboard in big words reads: 'AMERICAN SLUG'. People are looking to me for some kind of reaction, but I don't have one.

A boy whispers, "Maybe she's too stupid to know what it is?" It seems to mean more than a literal slug, but the insult's lost on me.

In my seat, there is a thumbtack, tip pointed up. I flick it off and sit down quietly. The warning bell goes off and the rest of my classmates stroll in. Per usual, Lucas and his troupe are in the door seconds before the final bell. He sees what's on the board and laughs along with his friends. His eyes scan the sea of students as he heads to his desk. When he sees me, he smiles. When he passes me, I trip him. A few people slip out quick bursts of laughter, but Lucas is back up in the blink of an eye and the class is silent. He looks stunned, but my actions really don't need to be explained, do they?

I smile. "Good morning, Luke-ass."

Mr. Wilson walks in, apologizing for being late like he always does, and Lucas has no choice but to quietly slink back to his seat. My teacher looks at the board then turns sharply to the class.

"Alright, who's responsible for this? Douglas?"

"I didn't do it!"

He tries again, "Atchison?"

"Why'd ya always blame _me_?"

Mr. Wilson names off every troublemaker and loudmouth in the class. No one admits to it. I don't say anything. He tells us he will not tolerate such disrespect in his class. Regardless of what he's saying, his tone is tired and bored, and it's doubtful he really gives a shit beyond his lesson being tampered with. He erases the insult and moves along, but I can't stop staring at the smear it's left behind.

* * *

The lunch bell rings and I feel myself crumbling. I'm hungry, _starved_, but it's a war zone out there. Food isn't an option. Only sanctuary. I take as long as I can packing up, then go and ask Mr. Clark mindless questions about equations I don't care about. After about five minutes, he politely asks if I can come back after school because he'd like to eat. I tell him not to worry about it and leave the room.

All of the voices are one big jumble now. Constant talking, screaming, giggling, whispering, shouting; eyes swimming through the air and students' faces deforming as they walking by. I can't tell what's real and what's not. It's terrifying. I pray and pray not to get stuck this way. It's madding. It feels like another dimension has swallowed me. Maybe it has. But I know if I react, if I look anything other than clam, angry, or bored, people from my dimension will see. They won't understand. They wouldn't even try to.

The library's in sight when someone calls my name, my last name. I stop and turn around, expecting a teacher, when someone slings their arm over my shoulders.

"Head in the clouds, Thompson? I called your name twice, you know."

"What do _you_ want?"

"I've been looking for you." The smile reaches his icy eyes, but only just. "I'd like to have a chat." He's leading me away from my sanctuary and it's hard to hear him over everything else. I plant my feet firmly.

"Then talk."

"Privately?"

"No. I'm busy."

"Hiding in a library isn't busy; it's cowardly. Come along now." He tries to lead me again but I shove him away.

"It's not cowardly to retreat when you're outnumbered. It's _smart_."

He laughs at me. "This isn't a battle, Thompson."

It is for me. Not breaking your nose is a battle for me. Not flinching as your face begins to twist and contort unnaturally is a battle for me. Not putting my hands over my ears, not crying, not screaming for this to stop is a battle for me. Everything is a battle, a struggle, don't you get it? I don't say any of this. Lucas shakes his head at me, sandy locks staying perfectly in place. He doesn't understand at all.

"You Americans are so violent minded."

"_Excuse you?!_" It's far louder than either of us expect. People are looking this way. "Dude, what the _Hell_ is your problem anyway? Aside from yesterday, I've never done _anything_ to you!" He's faltering. I'm not. "Why're you doing this to me?!"

He's against the wall, hands up, smile crooked and nervous. "Calm down, Thompson. It's just a game. Don't be so fragile."

I am _not_ fragile. He knows this the moment my knuckles crash into his face.

End Chapter Four

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**Slug, in this context, means a loose woman who's easy to bed. Just making it clear because I've never actually heard anyone use '****_slug_****' that way outside of British tv. (I'm such a loser... Using tv as an outline for British culture and behavior... Please excuse my loser-ness.)**


	5. Meeting the Death of Me

**Yo. I'm alive!! Yaaay! Thank you all so so so much for the reviews and the fav.s and all that good stuff that made me feel horrible for not updating sooner. :|**

**But yea, my editor (aka friend who will be an amazing writer one day, and has been training since 1st grade to do so, that looks over my story before I post it) was going through some tough times for a few weeks and couldn't review my story properly (her words, not mine). So I had another friend who reads books 24/7 look it over, and she did correct a few grammatical errors but it wasn't the feedback I wanted or was used to so I got nervous and was too afraid to post it. Then last week my editor looked over my stuff and TADA! here it is. So... yea. Read it, review it, make me feel guilty so I'll update sooner (seriously I feel so guilty when a lot of ppl tell me to update, and it keeps me on task and continue to write the story. idk why), but overall enjoy it. Blood, sweat, and tears went into this chapter. not really, but it made it sound more epic.**

**:3**

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_~Start Chap. Five: Meeting the Death of Me_

I should have known I couldn't have got away with that, but whatever, I'm missing out on PE, _so its all good_. Until they told me that they had called my Aunt Dot and she was coming to pick me up. Ok, so It's not_ all _good. And I have 20 hours of detention. It's not all good. And if I ever do something like this again I'll get suspended, or worse expelled. It's _defiantly_ not_ all _good. And they said my Aunt promised to call my** parents **about the matter. I'm fucked.

And you know what? Even though he's in the nurses office down the hall and I can_ still_ hear him moaning in pain. I blame Lucas.

If he hadn't pissed me off then I wouldn't have started arguing with him, then he wouldn't have insulted my pride, then I wouldn't have gotten in his face, and he wouldn't have insulted me by saying I was too scared to do anything to him, then I wouldn't have kicked him square in the ba--, ahem, sensitive lower part of the male reproductive system (causing a very _lovely _falsetto to escape his lips). Then one of his fifty billion followers/fangirls wouldn't have ran to the Dean's office claiming "The American's on psycho rampage!", then I wouldn't have had school security (quote/unquote) 'escort me' to the Dean's office, and I wouldn't have been so pissed off that I cursed at them and kept flipping the damn bird.

Stupid Lucas. I glared at the floor until Aunt Dot walked into the office, she apologized for my behavior and promised it wouldn't happen again and said that I had been having trouble sleeping lately, as though it would somehow magically make everything better. Although, I guess my lack of food and sleep could somehow be used as a scapegoat. Plus _I did_ hit my head really hard this morning...

As soon as we were in the car she suddenly stopped defending me and started interrogating me. _Whhhhhy_ had I kicked Lucas?_ Whhhhhy_ didn't I try talking it out?_ Whhhhhy_ did I resort to violence? _Whhhhaaaat_ was wrong with me? I'm_ gonnnnnnnna_ punch somebody. I'm grounded for a month, no TV, no computer, no cellphone (I'm really going to need to invest in a watch), and finally, I'm not allowed to babysit Tony anymore. Which made no sense.

"What? Why can't I watch the kid? I mean, I'd understand if you didn't_ pay_ me anymore, but no more _watching_? Why not?"

"Well, I'll have to talk it over with Bob, but I think it's for the best."

"Why _not?_" I repeated.

"I just..." she thought of the right words," I just... don't think its okay to leave him alone with you anymore."

"What?!" I asked insulted," What, do you think I'm _beating _him while you're away? I'd never do that!"

"Well, no. No. I don't think you'd _hurt_ him. I _know _you wouldn't, but you're a bad influence, Jen, and I think you know that." I was too insulted to respond, so I just glared out the window, but I knew it was true. Aunt Dot sighed before she continued," Did you plan to hurt Lucas today?"

"No." I shot back, "It just _happened_. And I'm _not_ sorry." I said letting my anger be known," Why? Do you think I'm part of some underground _Mafia_ thing, now?"

"No," Aunt Dot answered feeling a little sorry for accusing me,"It just seemed a little to coincidental..."

"What did?" I asked still upset, but now curious, as we pulled into the driveway.

"Tony got in a fight with the McCashton boys at _his _school earlier, so I was just wondering if the two of you had planned it. But since you didn't, that just proves..." she didn't know how to finish the sentence, so I finished for her.

"I'm a bad influence." I said, getting out of the car and walking into the house. I climbed the stairs and went straight to Tony's room. When I saw him I felt a pang of guilt hit me. He had two tissues stuck up his nose and a black eye was forming. He had a few bruises on him, too. Just looking at him, and guessing that I had given him the impression that fighting was the answer to his bully problem, I might as well have been the one who had beat him. Cuz it sure felt like I did.

"Hey." I said slowly.

"Hi." he said sounding funny with those tissues up his nose.

"Heard you got in a fight."

"They started it." He shrugged," I heard you got in a fight, too."

"He started it." I shrugged, "Looks like I had the better outcome." He looked away, as if I'd hurt his man-pride. Honestly, I think I have more pride than he does. Then again he is only_ eight_. I sighed and walked out of his room, muttering for him to put his toys away. They were all over the floor. I trudged over to the stairs and up to my room. Once inside I walked over to my bed and plopped down on top of it heavily. I let out a huge sigh and tried to fall asleep. I almost did too; but then I heard aunt Dot talking and walking towards my room. I sat up, wondering who she was talking to. As she got closer I heard her say,

"I don't know Bill, apparently she just kicked him and someone told the Dean she was on a rampage." Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Bill, aka William, aka my **dad,** was on the phone.

"Oh _shit!_" I jumped off my bed, ran for my closet, slammed the door quietly, locked it and pushed my frame against the door almost as-though I was waiting for someone to try and break it down.

"Jen, your dad's on the... Jen?" I stayed with my body against the door, listening to my aunt through the wood," Uh, hold on Bill I can't find her. ... No, I'm in her room. .... Well she-- ... But she's-- ... Ok. Jen! "She called out," Your dad's on the phone and he thinks you're in here hiding!" _Damn._ He knows me too well, "So I'm going to put the phone on speaker and leave the room, ok?!" I said nothing as I heard a loud 'Ping' sound, foot steps, no foot steps, more foot steps and a door close. Then it was quiet.

"Jennive Thompson," I heard the furious voice of my father. He was a real airhead most of the time, and very nice, but when he was angry he was a completely different man. Not to mention he had changed a lot since he married my stepmom," Jennive, I'm so _disappointed_ in you. Don't you know any better?! You can't just go round attacking people for no reason! Do you know what that_ shows_ people?!" I slid against the door until I was sitting on the floor," It shows them that you are an savage _animal. Raised_ by animals. It gives you and your family a **bad** name." He paused," I can understand a mer _child_ using violence as a means of problem solving, but you, _Jen_? You're an _adult_. Adults don't attack other people over nothing, if they did, the world would be in ruins!" I silently nodded my head to no one and got on my knees and unlocked the door and opened it slightly to hear him better. "Why are you acting like this? What happened to you? You used to be such a good girl, and now what? Hurting other people? Sneaking out in the middle of the night for drugs--?"

"I never did that," I stated loudly, letting my presence be known," I _told_ **you** I didn't! I told you I was sneaking out to hang out with my friends and go club hopping so we could dance like retards. And _I know_ it's not a very likely story but why don't you, my own _father_, my own _flesh _and **blood**, believe me?"

"Don't use that tone with me, young la-!"

"I'll use whatever **damn** tone of voice I want! I'm a million miles away, you don't control my life any more."

"You're digging your own grave, young lady."

"Good! I'd rather dig my own grave than put up with your bull sh-!"

"One more word and I'll-!"

"You'll what, dad? Huh? You'll _send me away_? _Huh?_ Oh, _whoops_! **Too fucking late**! You have _nothing _to use against me!" I heard him sigh.

"Jane was right."

"Oh, of **course**! _Jane_ is** always** right! _Jane_ says Jen's on drugs, oh! Must be true! _Jane_ says we should send Jen to Scotland, oh! Must be the best goddamn punishment ever! Jane, Jane, Jane, I'm so **sick** of that woman! Why can't you just see she's using you for your _money_?!" I shouted on the verge of angry tears.

"Jen!"

"Oh! Oh! And lest we forget, _dear_ and _darling_ Jen," I said imitating Jane," You know why she wanted to send me away? _Hm?_ Cuz she knew that I could see through her little performance and that she was just using you! Dad, she's trying to make us enemies so you'll be on her side so she can keep toying with your money! She's such a **bitch**! I don't know how you ca-!"

"**Enough**!" His voice roared." I have had it up to **here** with _you_. Jane is only trying to do what is best for this _family_! And what is the thanks she gets? You calling her a** bitch**?! " Why can't you be more like your _mother_? Didn't she raise you **better** than _this_!? Jennive, you're acting like a disgraceful child in this family! What's wrong with you?!" I calmly walked over to my bed and picked up the phone and took it off speaker phone the put it up to my ear.

"_'Best for this family'_, huh?," I quoted. I felt a dry laugh leave my throat as I walked towards my window, as small water droplets hit the floor. I whispered to him," What family?"

Then I heard glass shatter, a slam, and a door being locked as someone ran into my room asking what had happened.

I hate when people see me cry. But I wasn't crying. It's dark in my closet. Some dust got in my eye and I'm just breathing heavily. I'm not crying. I'm really not. In fact, I'm falling asleep. I haven't been sleeping well lately, and that's why I'm overly emotional today. I'm not crying. Say I am and I'll rip you a new one.

.

.

.

I lifted my head off of the ground. I had fallen asleep in my closet. I sat up on my side and yawned as I pulled out my cellphone, which had yet to be confiscated by an adult personnel of this household, and saw that it was 7:38 p.m.

"Well, there goes my chances for sleeping tonight..." I sighed to myself. I stood up, turned on the light, and changed out of my school uniform, slipping on some jeans. Then I had a slight controversy between wearing a t-shirt or wearing a tank-top. I chose the t-shirt. I unlocked my closet door, opened it, and stepped out about as gracefully as a pig walking on its hind legs. I walked over to my bed and found a slip of paper sitting on top of it. I walked back over to my closet, from which the light was still pouring out of, and read that my aunt and uncle had gone to a construction store to buy new glass for my window. I looked over to my balcony as a small breeze ran through the rather large and deformed hole in the glass. The note also said that there was a babysitter downstairs, but I was more interested in my bed. I turned off the light in my closet, crumpled up the paper and tossed it into my little wastebasket. It missed completely. In fact, I think it actually went in the opposite direction of the trash can. I fell onto my bed. It was much more comfortable than the carpet in my closet. Maybe I would fall asleep tonight after all.

Or not.

The wind howled, and almost screeched, as it ran through the opening in the window which woke up my paranoia. The ghost who was friends with the vampire was probably calling all his friends over to my house_. Great_. Wait, what if the ghost of my alarm clock comes back to haunt me and I hear random beeping through out the night? Oh. My. God. I would die of fright from an _alarm clock_.... Now I feel like I'm being watched again. Good god, I'm pathetic....

"Stupid ghost alarm clock..." I muttered not moving from my nearly dead looking position. Why does that ring a bell? Almost in perfect unison every alarm in my body went off. And I wasn't really sure as to why. I sat up trying to remember a reason for why my mind was subconsciously telling my body to run and get out of my room. I started to feel like I was _seriously_ not alone. If I_ am _seriously still alone, my paranoia is getting incredibly good at its job.

I suddenly remembered and screamed at my mind for letting me forget. I crawled over to the edge of the bed. Every inch of light from the sun was gone, the only brightness that remained was the dim light possibly coming from the moon. I leaned over my bed and pulled the bedskirt up away from my face and, to my upside down shock, saw nothing. My brain told me to run once more. I heard something like a door creak open, then slam, and shattering glass. I freaked out and fell off my bed and onto my head. A splitting pain ached through my skull as I sat up cradling it.

"A--fucking--gain?!" I moaned." I'm gonna get fricken brain damage!" I looked up to the balcony, which was now even more shattered," Did the wind do that?" I quietly questioned as I stood up. I walked towards the window holding my head again. I traced the glass, not the sharp edges, let go of my head and opened the door and almost walked out. Two things occurred to me at the same time, which had stopped me, one: The only time I really went out on the balcony was my first day here and the day I killed my alarm clock, and two: Someone was standing behind me. I swung around, praying no one would be there, and you know... in those horror movies when something_ IS_ behind you, it's a **hell** of a lot more scarier then when something isn't. I could now say this from first hand experience.

I'll admit it I screamed, more out of shock then fear, but there was definitely some fear mixed in with it. That corpse guy, Gregory, was standing in front of me and, even though it was dark out, I could see now that he was taller than me, stronger looking than me, and would probably be 20 times more resilient than Lucas should I kick him in the man area. And his beautifully vicious red eyes looked ready to kill someone. _Hopefully, _not me. I smiled awkwardly at him.

"Hello. Um, Gregory, right?" I asked him almost meekly, still shocked that the living corpse was standing in front of me. His eyes burrowed into mine as he reached his hand out to possibly rip out my throat out. I was paralyzed when I heard my bedroom door swing open. I ripped my eyes away from Gregory and sent them to the babysitter in my doorway. In a flash I was alone. I did a triple take. Gregory had disappeared.

"Good Lord, what are you doing up here screaming like a monkey?" The sitter screamed. At least, I _think _that's what she screamed. She had a _very _thick accent. She turned on my room light and I just stared at her as she lectured me, but I was far more interested in the missing corpse and let my mind wander. What if I really am going insane? What if he was never there and I was just imagining it all? _No way_. I know my brain. And my brian could never come up with eyes that could burn my soul as it sends chills through my bones or a voice that rang like rough velvet. It was very confusing and alluring, this boy who could disappear into thin air. I vaguely remembered saying something when I was little about a guy who was good at hiding, but I couldn't remember what I had been talking about at the time or who I had been talking to... I then realized the sitter wasn't in my room anymore. I looked behind myself then closed the glass door. A few more shards fell, and I realized I was standing in a small pile of glass. I moved quickly and carefully away from the glass and over to the bathroom. If one thing could set my mind straight it was a hot, hot shower. I turned on the faucet and walked back out and over to my bed. I dropped to the floor quickly and flipped up the bedskirt to find nothing once again.

I stood up, feeling like a complete moron. Until I looked at my closet, that is. If I remembered correctly, I left my closet door wide _open_. I walked over to it and kicked my door almost off its hinges. Instead, it hit the wall and sprang back hitting me in the face as it closed again. I clutched the handle, and twisted the damn door knob open. I'm seriously gonna get brain damage. I peered into my closet, much like I had done this morning, I looked left, right, down, up and found nothing, nada, zilch, and Gregory on the ceiling. My eyes bulged out of my skull for a second before reverting back to normal. He was either glaring at me or smirking at me, and judging by how contradictory I had recently explained his eyes and voice to be, he struck me as the handsome kind of guy who could do both at once. I sighed at myself and, as calmly as any crazy chick could muster, told him:

"Dude, you're gonna be the death of me... Heart attack, or otherwise."

_~End Chap. Five_

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**:3**


	6. Different Circumstances

**HI! Ok so yesterday, some of you may have gotten a notice saying that the story was updated and then got sent to a blank page or something. Yea, I'm sorry. That was my bad. I was working on this chapter yesterday and I accidently published it. But I took it down right away. I didn't think it would send out, but it did. So anyways (thanks EclipseTheVampire for ****checking with me & letting me know that it _did_ go through****), here's #6. Please enjoy :3

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_~Start Chap. Six: _ Different Circumstances

Now this is going to sound extremely stupid on my part, however I don't remember ever saying that I was particularly_ smart_. But after I found Gregory hanging upside down in my closet, I kind of just grabbed my PJs off the floor and took my shower. Of course I closed and locked the bathroom door and turned the lights off in my room before doing so. Though I'm pretty sure I'm either going crazy or having a mental breakdown, so I don't feel the need to go into anymore details than that. And, believe it or not, I think that shower more or less did clear my head because once I stepped out of the water and put my clothes on, I search my room (and closet) top to bottom; there was no Gregory, _anywhere_. Though, I'm almost 100% sure that I closed the balcony window all the way before showering, but whatever. Probably just a memory malfunction anyways. I had hit my head one too many times today to hold my brain accountable for any strange thoughts, illusions, or anything just plain weird that didn't seem normal. Like a a living-corpse stalking me... or hiding under my bed... or hanging upside down in my closet. I double-checked my closet for the fifth time, not trusting my eyes and ears for not detecting anything. I walked away from my closet and told myself everything was fine and that I was just over-stressed. And that, since it was late and I had just taken a nice long hot shower, it was time to forget my insanity and get a good nights rest. I badly need.

But I didn't particularly _feel_ relieved from my stress, and not in the _least_ tired, so I walked back into my closet. I knew what would tucker me out. I switched into tight black jeans, a punk-styled dark red dress-shirt, black fingerless gloves, and black wedge boots. Then I put a red and black headband in my damp golden hair. Then I grabbed a tight black jean jacket, that appeared to have been made not to go too far past a girls' bust, and threw it on before grabbing my essentials (cellphone, fake ID, & iPod) and heading out of my room. Sneaking past the babysitter was way too easy. She was yammering away on her cell phone in the kitchen, so I was actually able to escape through the front door. I placed my white earbuds into my ears and pressed PLAY. 'Good Girls Go Bad' by Cobra Starship started up. I bobbed my head lightly to the music as I made my way to the club.

I was filled to the brim with paranoia throughout the whole walk, thinking I saw something rustling in the bushes, a dark bur run through the trees, or just feel like I was being watched/hunted. But I managed to keep a straight face the whole way there. So I wouldn't look afraid, just in case someone _was_ stalking me. I pulled my fake ID out of my pants and flashed it to the bouncer, whom I would actually be on a first name basis with by now if I could remember his name. He nodded me in, giving me a slight smile. I pulled my earbuds out of my ears and wrapped the white wire around the iPod before securely placing it in my pocket. I walked into the club just as the song 'Oh Oh Oh Sexy Vampire' by Fright Ranger started playing. It was a favorite at this club and I **loved** it. I started swaying and moving to the beat as I, and nearly half the club, sang along (although no one could be heard over the music).

_"I forgot to wear my cross tonight~_

_I left my garlic at home~_

_It's so dumb but it's so fun to wander 'round the city alone~_

_I'm running, falling down_

_Chased me all over this town_

_and now you finally got me, what am I to do?_

_oh~ oh~ oh~_

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love_

_So just bite me baby_

_and drink all my blood, oh yeah~_

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love with you~_

_So. Do. What. You. What. You. Want. To. Do._

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love_

_So just bite me baby_

_and drink all my blood, oh yeah~_

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love with you~_

_'Cause you need my plasma more than I do~_

_oh~ oh~ oh~ oh~ oh~"_

I wrestled my way through the crowd and over to the bar. Drinking alcohol wasn't my forte, but drinks were served for free here, including water. If you were deemed cute enough by the annoying bartender, that is.

"Excuse me!" The bartender looked in my direction and smirked, looking me up and down.

"Why hello there, if it ain't the girl of my dreams." he greeted me, as he did every girl he labeled as 'bang-able'. I wonder how he'd react if he found out my real age? It'd be funny to see him shit a brick. " Can I get you something to drink, baby-doll? Maybe something with a little more kick tonight, then we can head back to my place later and make some music." I faked a giggle, even though I wanted to beat the shit out of him.

"No thanks, but maybe some other time. I've got a _huge_ presentation I have to give at 4:30 in the morning. So just water, please." He sighed before handing me a bottled water and muttering something about how college girls were supposed to be easy. I mentally laughed at him, wondering just how in the hell I was able to pull off looking like a college student to this guy when I was only in the tenth grade. I decided that it was too dark in here to see, even with all the flashing lights, and that he was just plain stupid. I then swam back into the crowd to finish dancing and singing to my song.

_"So you wanna stop for a drink or two?_

_And maybe for a disco break here~_

_We'll party all night until the sun comes up,_

_you could say I'm raising the stakes _

_I'm running, falling down_

_Chased me all over this town_

_and now you finally got me, what am I to do?_

_oh~ oh~ oh~_

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love_

_So just bite me baby_

_and drink all my blood, oh yeah~_

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love with you~_

_So. Do. What. You. What. You. Want. To. Do._

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love_

_So just bite me baby_

_and drink all my blood, oh yeah~_

_Sexy vampire, I'm falling in love with you~_

_'Cause you need my plasma more than I do~_

_oh~ oh~ oh~ oh~ oh~"_

The song started to merge with the next, which I knew to be "Kaleidoscope" by Val Ven. I was ready to keep on dancing, but my pocket started vibrating. I pulled it out and stared at my cell phone; unknown number. I didn't answer it. It could be a stocker somewhere in the club or a serial killer or something else, so I held it in my hand until it stopped ringing, then I placed it back into my pocket. I twisted the cap off the water bottle before swinging almost half of it down. It was at this point I realized that I was starving and hadn't eaten since breakfast. Actually, I can't even remember if I had_ had_ any food... The thought alone made my stomach growl in protest. I felt my pocket vibrate once more, too short to be a call but long enough to left me know I had a voice-message waiting. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore it, but something was gnawing at my gut to pick up the phone and listen to the message. Which was weird, because I normally wouldn't get the urge to listen to my voice messages unless I was dead bored. And it was usually a few weeks, if not a month, after I had gotten the call. I surrendered to my instinct and made my way outside of the club, which is the only place you can really hear _anything_ other than music.

I smiled at the bouncer before pulling my phone out and pressing a few buttons. It asked me for my password. Done. It asked me if I would like to listen to my messages. No shit Sherlock, done. I put my cell phone up to my ear, the annoying voice told me the date and time of the message (which wasn't even three minutes ago), and waited for a voice. The reception was so crappy I could hardly tell who it was. Until it hit me. And I froze.

"Jen?! Jen! Please, please pick up your phone! Mom and Dad didn't take it away already did they?!" Tony. "You gotta help me!" What? "Rudolph and I-- cemetery and s-- Rookery and some du-- pay-phone a-- don't think-- AHH!!"Then there was a huge crashing sound and line went dead.

"Tony..." I whispered just barely processing what must have happened. "Shit!" I said in a furious tone of sudden realization, then started sprinting in the direction of the cemetery.

.

.

.

By the time I ran the full mile and a half distance from the club to the cemetery, my lower limbs were screaming in pain and my heart and lungs felt ready to burst. Once the cemetery was in full view, I finally stopped to catch my breath. I gasped for oxygen, cursed myself for always half-assing PE. Not to mention wedged boots aren't _exactly _the number one running shoes in the world. I swallowed excess saliva, which tasted like iron, before I heard the screeching of bats. I looked up to the sky to see several bats flying hurriedly in the same direction. Then I heard a fearful scream come from the same direction they were flying to. I sprinted off, with every step I ran faster and faster. My legs and internal organs begged me to stop, but stopping was **not **an option. I kept running, deeper and deeper into the graveyard, not sure where I was going. Then I saw the lego-light truck as it made its way through the cemetery. I tripped over something (stupid wedges) and fell on my face. I lifted my head up and watched as the truck drove by. On it's way _out_ of the graveyard. My body began to turn to stone, not wanting to move anymore, out of exhaustion. I heard another scream, so I pushed my reluctant body back up from the ground, and groaned in pain.

"God damn... I need... I gym membership... geez..." Once I was up, I took off running again. It was a pathetic run, I'm sure, because I was ready to fall on the floor and pass out. Figuratively, of course, I'm not _that _out of shape. But I was pretty tired. Then I saw the source of the girl-like screaming. My cousin. He was huddling next to Rudolph, against the wall of a crumbling... something... The cause of his fear forcing him against the wall, you ask? Well, it was none other then... Wait...

"Oh, you've **got** to be kidding me..." I growled lowly in pure rage. My energy turned almost into a blazing fire, in a result, my body suddenly stopped aching. My destination was getting closer and closer and the closer I got the louder, I began to growl his name, until finally I was right behind him with my clenched hand. As he turned, realizing someone was behind him, I swung my fist into his neck shouting his name in fury.

"LUCAS!!" My fist connected with his throat and he gasped in pain as he flew back. I knew that I wasn't strong enough to make him fly and figured my adrenaline rush had made me momentarily more powerful. I decided to use every last drop of that power. I whipped my head at the young boys and snapped my fingers as I threw my thumb over my shoulder, gesturing them to beat it. Tony caught the message and pulled Rudolph away, until Rudolph started pulling him. Then I turned my attention back to the boy gasping for breath. I stomped over to him, which seemed amplified by my wedges, and grabbed him by the collar of his polo shirt. I grunted as I lifted his dead weight, then, once he was up, I slammed him against the wall.

"You just don't** get it**, do you, ya little fuck-face?" I gritted through my teeth. I shook him against the wall," You mess with me, I send you to the _nurses office_. You mess with my cousin, or his little friend, again... I send you to the fucking _morgue_. **Got it?!**" I let him go as I thrusted him into wall once more, for good measure. He groaned in pain. Slowly he sat up and stared straight at me, in disgust.

"I should have known you'd be on _their_ side," He scoffed," Such a stupid American." I kicked him in the ribcage with all my, slowly disappearing, might. I'm only human after all. He groaned again, and looked ready to throw another insult at me before we both heard screeching. We each turned our heads to the sound and saw four bats perched, upside-down, on a tree limb. It almost looked like more then half of them were_ glaring_ at either me or Lucas. Probably Lucas. I turned back to Lucas, who looked like he had just shit his pants, as he scrambled to his feet. He pointed at me threateningly with his shaking hand.

"D-Don't think this is the end of it!" He shouted. I clenched my hands and cracked my knuckles.

"Wouldn't _dream_ of it." I said threateningly keeping on my_ 'I'm-a-big-scary-American' _act. He shot one more glance of fear to the bats and to me before scurrying away like a scared little boy. I scoffed at him and crossed my arms, before my legs started shaking.

"Jen!" "Miss Jen!" I heard at the same time. I turned around, saw the boys, fell to my knees, and hugged Tony.

"Oh thank god..." I sighed in relief, before grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look at my angry face." What in the **hell **is wrong with you!? Why didn't you _tell me_ we're sneaking out?! You could have **died!** Good god! Do you know how lucky you are that I even _checked_ my phone within the same _month_? You need to _tell me_ next time you leave the house. Got it!?" He nodded his head in shame," Jesus... Do you know how **worried** I was when I heard that message?!"

"I sorry," He managed to mumble as though he were about to cry. I sighed, irritated and worn out, and let go of my cousin. I glanced over at Rudolph.

" You OK?" He nodded and, with nothing left in me, I fell onto my back and started gasping for breath. With the boys now safe, and no more adrenaline anywhere in my system, there was nothing keeping my body from screaming, aching, and pounding in pain for oxygen, as my limbs slowly turned to stone. Both kids freaked out when I fell backwards and rushed to my sides.

"Miss Jen?!"

"Jen, what's wrong?!" I groaned.

"Stop... shouting... at me... I'm just... tired..." I answered panting. Blah. I was exhausted. And tired. And the ground was considerably comfortable to a girl who just ran farther and faster then she had in years (and then pretended not to be half dead inside as she threatened a bastard). I turned on my side; I was seriously ready to fall asleep. Actually, I was fazing in and out of consciousness as I heard Rudolph shout something along the lines of _"bother"_ and _"muffler". _Which made my brain go 'WTF?'. I was breathing normally, somewhat, as I lifted myself up and twisted around to see the _'bothered muffler'._ Turns out there was no muffler, but there was an older woman. And the only bothered one was an older looking man. They didn't look _that _old but, based on their clothing of choice, I'd say there was a fairly good chance that these people were Rudolph's parents. They both shared the Victorian clothing and pale skin of their son. Was it Halloween on a daily basis for these people, or what? Rudolph looked like he was going to explain what happened and Tony was standing next to him, ready to confirm the story, so I just twisted back around and tried to fall asleep. But, as I closed my eyes, I felt something staring straight at me. I opened my eyes and saw Gregory, not two inches away from my face.

"HOLY SHIT!!" I screeched and, somehow or another, jumped up and ran top-speed backwards, slamming my spine into the crumbling wall. I watched, as he smirked coming closer and closer to me. His eyes slowly turned more and more crazed, and his smile almost seemed to turn insane and... were those **fangs**?

"Wait-- Brother, stop! She's a friend!" Rudolph cried out running up to him. Snapping him out of his crazy-ness.

"So you _do_ know each other..." I said to no one," Then you're... seriously _related?_" I questioned, not moving from the wall. Rudolph nodded.

"Yes, he is my older brother. I'm sorry if he scared you." I looked at the young boy then to the young man that, was admittedly very, very, _very,_ good-looking, but I knew to be a living corpse. Then, looking back at Rudolph, I finally questioned them:

"What_ are_ you guys?"

"They're vampires!" Tony screamed happily from near Rudolph's parents. I stared at him, then at Rudolph, then at Gregory (who I had a hopeful feeling wouldn't bite me, even if he was staring at me like he would). Vampires? For real? No way. But how else to explain it? The old clothes, pale skin, and red eyes (that I suddenly noticed everyone in the family had). Wasn't it that vampire hunter with the lego-light truck talking about vampires this morning? I just saw Gregory's fangs. I continued to stare at them feeling very confused, very stupid, and very proud of myself. So my paranoia was right! A vampire really _had _been staking me last night! And a cute one at that! Sexy vampire song, _you_ just got even higher on my awesome music list.

I noticed that after Tony's little shout-out, it had gotten very quiet very quickly. And I found myself in the same dilemma that I had been earlier in the morning. Had it really only been 12 hours since the madness started? I stood up slowly and dusted myself off. The father of the_ 'pack_' made his way, kind of strutting, over to me. His wife was at his side and Tony was teetering after them. Soon, Count Dracula (I _assume_) was looming over me.

"State your business, _mortal_," he commanded, looking ready to pop my head off like I was a bimbo-headed Barbie doll.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," I said putting my hands defensively up, "I'm just here cuz my cousin called me and sounded like he was in trouble. Rudolph was too, but I didn't know that until I got here, um, sir." I added quickly, not too sure how to address him. I'm sure _'Count Dracula'_ would be considered insulting. I mean, unless he _was_. I looked to Tony then back at him.

"**But,** it seems to me that Tony's in perfectly fine and capable hands now, so I really ought to be going home..." I said inching away from the vampires, not taking my eyes off them. Oh, wait. How many vampires had there been? One vampire, two vampire, three, four... wasn't there another? Someone grabbed my shoulders from behind. I shrieked and turned my head to my captor. Vampire number five, aka; The Hottie Who Enjoys Scaring Me _Shitless_.

"Good **god**, Gregory! Keep it up and I swear I'll die of a heart attack!" I yelled.

"Gregory?" his mother and father questioned at the same time. His mom spoke softly in confused. His dad was also confused, but seemed almost outraged I knew it.

"How is it she knows your name, Gregory?" a petite young female vampire asked. I shoved Gregory off of me; he didn't go far. I mean if he were breathing, I'd feelit.

"I know his name because he's practically been _stalking_ me for the past 24 hours. Aside from when it was light out, of course." I added. The vampiric family was a bit taken back, but Tony snapped them back to their senses. And I wanted to punch the little tard.

"Jennive's got a _boooooyfriend~_, Jennive's got a _boooooyfriend~_!" Tony teased. I glared at him while most of the vampires stared at me confused. The dad looked pissed, too...

"I said **he stalked me**, not_ he fell in love with me._" Tony rolled his eyes and muttered a 'whatever dude'.

"What's this?" I stuffed my fists in my pocket, "I save your life and you give me attitude? That's cold... Not to mention very rude."

"You've fallen for a mortal, brother?" the girl vampire asked, ignoring my comment to Tony. And, to be honest, I couldn't tell whether or not she was simply asking a question or trying to insult one of us.

"I do not love _anything_, especially a **mortal**," he hissed venomously in my ear, trying to intimidate me. The coldness of his breath tickled my ear and made the hairs on my neck stand. I turned my head to him.

"Oh, put a cork in it, _Spiky._" He looked at me, not exactly cold or insultingly, but not exactly friendly, either. I'm not sure what it was. Interest, maybe? Perhaps with a hint of shock, that a _'mortal'_ dared not to quiver in fear of his presence? All the while still keeping the stoic bad-boy expression that could have made me blush, had the situation been under different circumstances.

"How cruel!" the young female vampire shouted, ignoring my comment. Again. I looked at Gregory then back at her.

"Who? Me or him?" I questioned.

"Him! We all care for you brother, and yet you say such harsh words!"

"Yea," I added, obviously just agreeing with her (so I could form allies)." Listen to the girl with the pretty hair!"

"You think my hair is... Pretty?"

"Sure, um. I don't know your name, so... Yea." She quickly walked, very elegantly I might add, up to me.

"My name is Anna, and I think your dress looks lovely."

"Awww, thank you!" Though I'm technically just wearing a long shirt and pants, but Anna didn't need to know that," My name's Jennive, but please just call me Jen."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Jen." I smiled, as the corners of my mouth twitched, and turned to their mother.

"Ma'am, your children are _painfully_ polite," She smiled, and I looked back at Gregory, "Even if one of them enjoys _stalking_ me."

"If my son was _stalking_ you, it was purely out of the fact of your being our** pray**. Do **not **confuse his actions for any other reasoning." The father threatened, as though I were charging his son for some ungodly crime. And, to be honest, it sounded like he thought I was suggesting that Gregory was obsessed with me for romantic reasons.** HA! **I, _along with every other teenage girl_, wish.

"I'm aware of that, sir," I accidently squeaked out instead of sounding as cool, calm, and collected as I pretended to be. His wife put a hand on his shoulder, which magically seemed to make him calm down, ever so slightly.

"Darling, I think she means to _toy_ with him. Not to imply anything." I nodded like crazy, he huffed, and she turned her attention to me. I suppose the huff was code for 'yes dear, you're right, I'm wrong, but I have too much man-pride to admit it.' But that might just be me. Either way the mother was looking at me now, which means time to stop talking to myself and pay attention.

"Please excuse my husband, he is merely looking out for our family."

"As a father should. I'm Jennive." I said giving her a head nod.

"It is a pleasure. My name is Freda. And this is my husband," She gestured the man, "Fredrick."

"Nice to meet you both." Oh, hey, Gregory disappeared, "Well I don't mean to be rude, but we seriously should be leaving. Tony's parents will be home any second now and the first thing they'll do is check on us." Tony got excited.

"Ok,_ let's fly!_" He said like it was some kind of catchphrase.

" '_Fly?' _" I questioned," What is that, some corny new way of saying 'let's go' that little kids are using?" Tony laughed at me, and Rudolph explained.

"No, he means to actually fly." . . .

"You mean like..._ literally?_" he nodded. Flying? Puh-LEASE. I'll buy the whole vampire thing, but _flying_? Bull_shit._ I looked at Tony, "Since when did you sprout **wings**?" He pouted, with his mini-man-pride bruised yet again. The younger vampire's laughed, Freda smiled, Fredrick looked ever so slightly amused, and Gregory was still missing. Rudolph then explained that it was _he_ who had the ability to fly, not Tony. I nodded and muttered a sceptic 'ok' before starting to walk away.

"Where are you going, Ms. Jen?" Anna called.

"Home, Goodnight!"

"But Rudolph can FLY us home." Tony insisted. I stopped and turned back to them.

"Thanks but, no thanks. I only fly in airplanes. And that's only if I **have** to."

"But it's so much_ fuuuuuuuun_!" Tony whined.

"No means, **NO!** I'd rather walk home and face punishment!"

"But _whhhhhyyyyy_?!" he whined again. I sighed in annoyance.

"You obviously don't understand the meaning of '_paranoia_'. I'm afraid of **everything** in my life, for at least **five seconds** because I think **everything** is out to get me. Or at least that anything bad that _can happen_, **will. **But that last bit might just make me a pessimist..."

"Why is it you are afraid of flying? Rudolph certainly wouldn't drop you." Anna said trying to convince me that there was nothing to worry about. And there probably wasn't. But the thought of falling from the sky straight into the cold, hard ground (after being attacked by tons and tons of tree-limbs) was just haunting.... Not to mention painful sounding. Did Rudolph disappear now, too? Oh, no he's there next to Tony. Was he there a second ago? Anyway, why are we even having this conversation? Flying isn't possible, and even if it was... well... I still wouldn't want to go.

"I'm just... not.... comfortable, with it. Sorry." I started walking away again, "It was nice to meet everyone."

"But, but, but, "Tony stuttered. Why the hell was he so interested in getting me to fly? It was like the time my friends back home wanted to get me to ride that one roller coaster. They were lucky they could even get me _near_ a roller coaster the day after watching Final Destination 3! Why the hell do I attract the type friends who enjoy watching **horror movies!?**

"But you could get kidnapped! I, uh, saw it on the newspaper at breakfast."Tony finally came up with a good argument," Some rapist kidnapper guy is supposed to be hiding out in the forest some where!" Was Tony telling the truth? Most likely not. But does my paranoia give a damn? Most likely not. I suddenly felt like the trees in the distance were staring hungrily at me. With a perverted old man hiding behind them. I heard whispering and shuttered.

"But, have it your way!" Tony shouted cheerily. His choice of words made me hungry for Burger King. Oh... Burger King... Then I heard an excited yell. I jumped, and spun around. Tony and Rudolph were high in the air. IN THE FREAKING **AIR**!!!! Tony shouting in joy, and Rudolph was joining in. I stared at them both, bewildered. They waved and started flying towards the direction of the house. Then Rudolph tuned his head around, and with a smile on his face shouted:

"NOW!"

"Now?! Now what-- HOLY SHIT!!" I shouted as something swooped down and snatched me off of the ground. I screamed before getting a good look.

"Gregory, you ass-hole!!" I screamed while clutching onto him for dear life," Oh my god, oh my god!" I heard the kids ahead of us laughing their asses off. I could have swore I saw that damn smug smirk on his lips. I wouldn't even _hope_ to believe that he was laughing and smiling at this moment. I was going crazy. Crazier then usual, at least. " Don't. You.** Dare. **Drop me," I warned him.

"Drop you?" He questioned, amused. I shook my head 'no' furiously, "Well... if you're sure." His grip loosened on me a great amount.

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" I shrieked, practically latching myself onto him. The idea of smashing into the ground kept violently replying in my mind over and over and over again. This time I was sure of it. He was laughing at me.

"**Gregory!**"

"I'm just living up to your expectations." He smiled.

"What?! How the **hell** does this qualify as stalker-ing?!"

"I have to be the death of you. One way or another." He smirked at me, his fangs glistening.

"Oh really?! My expectations are preferably **non-violent**!!" He laughed again. If this were under any other circumstance, I would currently be telling you how _amazing_ his laugh sounded and how _beautiful_ his face looked when his genuine smile was glowing in the moonlight. Right now, though, I'm not concerned about those things. I'm focusing on the fact that I'm suspended a hundred feet in the air, going really really fast, and that the only thing keeping me from plummeting into the Earth was this knuckle-headed vampiric hottie, who enjoys scaring me half to death just a_ little_ too often. Though, I suppose, if the circumstances _were_ different I wouldn't have said vampire holding me around the waist at this moment. I guess it all works out one way or another. Shit!! He almost dropped me. **Again!**

"Damn you, Gregory!" I growled. He laughed, keeping his hand around tight around my waist until he decided to drop me. His hand was cold, so was most of his body, but for some reason I felt warm as he laughed. Then again, I was a fifteen-year-old high school girl latched onto a sixteen or seventeen-year-old looking vampire. Wasn't there some universal law that entitled me to blush under these circumstances?

_End Chap. Six_


	7. The Crimson Spell

**I... Am... ALIVE! Woo! With finals, my show, and school all done with I finally have time to relax, become unstressed, and finally focus on my fanfictions. Yay! So in celibration I give you this sad excuse of a chapter, that of which is filled to the brim with romantic lovey-dovey crap and stuff and yea. But it's _really_ short, sooooo... yeah... don't kill me. It was longer, but the rest of it took place the next morning and... i don't know, it just felt like a filler chapter. So I'm probably gonna just cut that morning bit out and skip to straight after school the next day. **

**Unless... You all reeeeeally want that morning bit. ... then I might put it back in but... eh... no Gregory so... eh... why bother, right? Anyways, _ENJOY!_**

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_Start Chap. Seven: The Crimson Spell_

"Balcony, sweet balcony. How I missed thee!" I shouted, as I clutched onto on of the sides of my balcony. There had been no need to tell the stalker which window was mine.

"It was not _that _bad." Gregory scoffed. I stared at him in shock.

"Whataya mean it _'wasn't that bad'_!" I asked hysterically," What's your definition of a bad flight! Crashing into a fricken _mountain_! Personally, I consider any flight a bad flight if I nearly** fall** out of the** sky** nearly four times._"_ Now don't take my word for it, lord knows my hearing's probably shot, but I could have swore I heard him mumble,

"It isn't like I would have let you fall." Followed by his eyes rolling. How do I know what that sounds like? Trust me; if anyone knows what rolling eyes sounds like, it's **me**.

"Anyway, thanks for the lift." I said, with no pun intended.

"I suppose it doesn't happen often," He stated cooly. I snapped my head at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I screeched, offended. Was he saying I wasn't attractive enough to be offered a drive home? Sure I didn't have guys lining up at my doorstep, but I've been offered a ride home from the clubs once or twice in my lifetime! Of course those guys were mostly wasted and/or just wanted to screw me... But still! Gregory looked lightly confused and not at all like he had just insulted someone. He raised his eyebrow.

"You've... Gone flying before?" I stared at him dumbfounded.

"Oh. Wait. Was... _That_ what we were talking about?" I straightened up quickly. " Oh, no, no, no. I'd never been flying before tonight. At least... not without being in an airplane." I laughed nervously, and he actually _tilted_ his head in confusion. Crap. **Must. Fight...** The **Blush**.

"Right." He muttered looking away aloofly. He looked back at me, noticing something. He seemed to be looking at my cheeks.

"What?" I snapped at him, as I turned my head to the side. Avoiding his gaze, hoping he couldn't see my rose tinted cheeks. I glanced back to where he was to find that it was only where he **had** been. He had disappeared again. Damn him. I sighed, closed my eyes, rubbed my temples, and leaned over the balcony. What the hell was wrong with me? This _isn't_ how Jennive Victoria Marie Thompson acted around cute boys. Jennive Victoria Marie Thompson acted confident, tough, and would occasionally throw in a flirt or two. Jennive Victoria Marie Thompson_ didn't_ get overly defensive over nothing. And Jennive Victoria Marie Thompson definitely did** not** talk to herself in third person trying to convince herself of... something. Just what _was_ I trying to convince myself? That I _wasn't _insane? That train's already** left **the station. I let my eyes ease open, only for some unidentified object to be captured in the edge of one of my eyes and squeaked. I sighed, annoyed with myself, for freaking out over it just being Gregory, and leaned against the balcony once more. Jennive Victoria Marie Thompson didn't shriek or scream every time she caught a glimpse of guys she liked, either... Then again what did I know? Almost all of my relationships bombed horrendously and _none _of them started off with me acting like_ this_.

"Do all mortals do that?" He asked. I swung my head in Gregory's direction.

"_What?_" I questioned," Shriek every ten seconds? No, I'm a special case, sorry to disappoint." His faced turned annoyed.

"Never mind." He stated coldly, looking out to the horizon. Oh shit... Nice one Jen, maybe _this_ is why none of my relationships started out like this. I just barely caught my thoughts. _Relationship?_ Was I already looking for a _relationship_ with this guy, this _vampiric_ guy, that I'd hardly known for a **day**? No. No, no. I probably meant relationship like friends and stuff. I'm tired. I must be thinking too much. And I'm _really _hungry. Snapping out of it, I remembered that there was still an irked vampire next to me. I reluctlantly swallowed my pride.

"Sorry. I guess we have different perceptions about humor. What were you asking?"

"Humor?" He questioned, like he didn't get that I was being sarcastic when I had answered his earlier question.

"In my defense, my humor has always been mean. If not at least a little rude." I said quickly. He lifted his head up in an, old fashioned, understanding manner while murmuring a light 'Ah.'. Though, I guess it's not all that old fashioned. Just not necessarily a _new_ fashion.

"You're _question?_" I asked again leaning near him. Regaining his attention, he turned towards me. There was only two inches separating our faces. Were he breathing I would have felt his cool breath on my lips. His beautiful red eyes stared into mine. Too much attention. Attention overload. Warning. Warning. Blush rising. He gave a single airy chuckle, looking quiet pleased with himself. More blushing. Damn it.

"What?" I asked sounding annoyed. He leaned closer, I leaned further away. He smiled. "_What?_" Closer, further. "**What?**" I warned, my embarrassed face not matching up with my threatening tone. He smiled wider, like a child who had found a new game to play with his brand new toy. Closer, further. Not only is hurting my back, but I can practically feel his body-heat radiating off his skin. Or would it be his body-_freeze_? I stepped away from the balcony edge, straightening my back, and brushed off my dress-shirt. In a failed attempt to hide my blush, that we both undoubtably knew was there. Gregory stood up straight looking kind of disappointed, like he had wanted to keep playing.

"Not fair." He muttered," I hadn't even begun toying with you yet." Yet? _YET!_ Good god, what did he mean _yet_? Hadn't he been messing with me almost all night? I stared straight at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He paused, then smirked.

"Is a mortal's vocabulary really so limited?" He asked, referring to my earlier using of that same phrase. But the way he said it bugged me. Like he thought he was 200 times better than me based off the fact that I was a mortal. I started walking back up to him, pissed.

"And just what are you implying?" I asked, changing up my words a little," That I'm-" Tripping. I'm _tripping_. I tripped. A stupid flippen stone was lifted out of place, and these stupid flippen wedges made it practically impossible to go 5 seconds without tripping. Oh, and guess** what**? I fell. Yea, but not on my face. No. I grabbed onto Gregory in an attempt to keep from falling. Yeah. . . happened so fast he hardly had time to wrap his arms around me and make me blush like a crazy frog once more. Yeah. My life ladies and gentlemen.

I looked up at him (even in these god damned wedges he was still taller than me), then pushed myself off him. I cleared my throat and mumbled a goodnight, as I reached for the knob of the broken glass door that lead to my bedroom. I felt a grab on my opposite hand. I turned back to find Gregory holding my hand in his. He brought it up to his lips, ready to kiss it. Then stopped and looked me dead in the eyes.

"Goodnight." The crimson spell of his eyes hit my soul before a smirk flashed across his features and I snatched my hand from his. Squeaking out another goodnight before rushing into my room and quickly running into my closet, flinging the door closed, and flicking the lights on. I leaned against the doorframe, much like earlier in the day, as though some vikings were about to knock it down. Good. **GOD**. That was... Just... Bah! I can't even explain! And the way his fangs just, _ever so slightly_, shone through his smirk. And his voice, the goodnight. And,_ oh,_ the smirk. **Damn it!** This guy's driving me off the deep end! Which is something I _don't _need any help with. **W**_**hat**so**ever**._

I looked up and saw, through my mirror, that I was beat red. I walked over to my vanity and patted my cheeks a few times. It was time to cool down. I breathed in and out, in and out. Ok. Now I'm calm, and my color is returning to normal. I gave a heavy sigh. This day needs to end already. I zipped my boots off, and pulled my things out of my pockets before striping out of those clothes and putting my pajamas from earlier back on. I pulled the headband out of my hair and brushed it out. My feet hurt. Stupid wedges. I put my brush down, walked out the closet, and turned off the light. Walked into the bathroom, lights, teeth, the works. Then finally turned the light out and trudged over to my bed. I climbed on and crawled to the pillows. Once there I plopped down and pulled the covers over my head. Good god... I really should be more worried whether or not it's a trick to get my blood, in which case, he wins. By a long shot. But Gregory seemed more like the 'fight-y fight-y, bite-y bite-y' type of person-vampire-thing than the 'make-a-mortal-human-chick-thing-fall-in-love-with-me, then bite-y bite-y' type of person-vampire-thing. I mean,_ really_? He was **way** too impatient for any of that bull-crap. Finally after I finished replaying my evening's events, some more than others, I was out in a matter of minutes.

_End Chap Seven_

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_**Told you it was short... Don't kill me please! Why with me gone, who would write this fanfiction for you? Well, I'm sure a few would try and take over the story, but will it _really _be the same? _REEEEEEEEALLY? _Would you be able to live with the guilt? Huh? _HU__H?_ No. No you would not. So, MEH! (Ignore me I'm a hyper-typer... :3 )**


	8. Weirdo

**Hi there :3**

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_Start Chap Eight: _Weirdo

"Did he bite you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Did he _threaten_ to bite you?"

"_No_."

"..."

"..."

"Did he_ pretend _to bite you?"

"For the love of crap,Tony, **NO**! Gregory did not threaten, pretend, or actually bite me! Now shut up and let me eat my Scottish coco-puff knock-offs in peace. Geez..." I grumbled stuffing a spoonful of the knock-off into my mouth.

"Who's Gregory?" Aunt Dot asked from behind me. I involuntarily swallowed my cereal from the surprise presence and started choking and coughing. Which, even though I was simply trying to save my own life, made me look very suspicious. After a final cough, and glaring daggers at my laughing cousin who I now realized had a death-wish, I looked back to Aunt Dot.

"Oh, he's Rudolph's older brother... We share a few classes. That's all." I replied with, what I hope came off as, little interest in the subject. Though I could feel myself blushing slightly.

"Why would he be_ biting_ you?" She asked with honest concern. I turned to Tony with an evil gleam in my eyes. Payback.

"Yes, Tony. Why _would _Rudolph's bother be biting me?" A asked grinning. He froze, a wave of panic spread across his face. He started to mumble.

"Uh... Cause... he... uh..."

"What's that? Speak up, we can't hear you." I said, leaning towards him, rather loudly with a hand to one of my ears. He glared at me, then had an evil look of his own.

"Cause he's a vampire!" He shouted triumphantly. My face fell. Was I really related to this idiot? I looked at Aunt Dot, who was now sitting across from us. She looked confused. I forced myself to give a few chuckles. Aunt Dot noticed and caught on to the 'joke' and smiled.

"Okay, sure thing, Tony. Whatever you say." I said rolling my eyes at the 'joke'.

"**And!**" He shouted, regaining attention. "And..." He trailed off. I raised an eyebrow, unamused, as Aunt Dot looked on in interest. We should really have our own sitcom.

" '_And?'_ " I asked very annoyed with him. He smiled at me evilly, to which I returned a glare.

"And... he's your..." He paused, and leaned over to me," **boooooyfriend!**"

"No, he's not."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-huh."

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-huh!"

"Uh-huh!" I turned to my Aunt who was simply sipping her coffee as she watched us go back and forth.

"Aunt Dot, I know you did your absolute best but, one way or another, your son turned into a no good liar!" Looked back at him," How could you let your mother down like that? Tony, I am _appalled._"

"Huh?" He questioned far too slow, because I was already on the other side of the table holding one of his mother's hands in both of mine, shaking my head disapprovingly.

"Where did we go wrong?" I asked her tearfully. Tony jumped up from his seat an ran to her other side, and hugged her arm.

"Mom, quick, let's send her to Pluto with her boyfriend! You love me more, don't you?"

"Oi, move it! I was here first!" I said trying to push him away from her. "And he's not my boyfriend!" I added quickly. Aunt Dot sighed.

"Okay, lets just get you two to school before you break something." I immediately jumped off of her and threw my school bag over my shoulder.

"Yes! Right as always, my darling Aunt!" Tony scrambled off his mother.

"Yeah, I'm sure Jen want's to see her _boooooyfriend_ as soon as possible." He said smiling. I glared at him.

"_Tony"_ Aunt Dot warned," It's not nice to tease your cousin like that." He mumbled a 'yes ma'am' as I stuck my tongue out at him. "Besides, you already know she has a boyfriend." I stopped sticking my tongue out and looked at her, puzzled.

"I _do_?" I asked dumbfounded. Why was I not informed that a boy was currently in a romantic relation with myself? I'm going to have to sit down and have a nice long talk with this young man. Aunt Dot took a final sip of her coffee, and looked very perplexed.

"Well, yes. That McCashton boy, what was his name? Len? Lou? Lu... Lucas!" My eyes were the size of saucers, I'm sure.

"_Huuuuuuuh?_"

"Oh, are you two trying to keep it a secret?" She giggled," He's not doing a very good job at it."

"Wait... He **TOLD** you we were _dating_!" My voice was getting so high pitched with shock and rage that the '-ting' in 'dating' had given me a headache.

"Well, he didn't come right out and say it but he wouldn't stop talking about you the other night." I opened my mouth to protest and tell her I had nothing but contempt for that pathetic excuse of a man but was interrupted by Tony running towards to door screaming:

"_Ooooooh_! I'm telling _Rudolph_! And then he's gonna tell **GREGORY**!"

"I'LL** MURDER YA**, YOU LITTLE** INGRATE**!" I screeched chasing him out. He locked the car door as soon as he was safely inside. I stared pounding on the window shouting random threats, that made little to no sense, as I wondered why it had mattered so much to me in the first place.

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As I walked into my first period class I stared, probably twitching, at the empty space before me. As I did, I couldn't help but think that all my grade school mishaps were trying to catch up to me. Purposely pushing Johnny so hard on the swing-set that he flew off; last night I almost fell out of the sky **four** times (_stupid-tupid hot vampire_). Spreading around those rumors about Katy kissing Mitchell in the girls bathroom; everyone thinks I'm going out with _everyone_. Stealing and hiding Mr. Jones' coffee mug every time I got the chance; my desk is missing. That's right. My fucking**DESK**is** MISSING.** _Un-be-_**FREAKING**-_lievable_. I heard snickering and laughter coming from behind me. I turned my head ever so slightly to the source. Luke-**ASS** and his mindless minions. No surprise. They were almost all brunettes, aside from Lucas. Lucas had a well combed mop of short sandy blond hair and mocking gray-ish-blue eyes. One of the most annoying of the minions, lets call him Mac, jabbed another in the side playfully.

"Well would you look at that boys, not even a hunk of wood could stand being around the stupid American any longer." They all started laughing again, louder this time. I glared at Lucas and Mac the most as my cheeks reddened with anger, and annoyance. Mac started making faces at me. Yeah. He's _real _mature. I turned from the boys and walked down to the end of the row. I'm pretty sure that one's his...

I picked up a desk and managed to move it to its new spot, replacing my empty space. The devil and his mindless drones watched me as though I had grown two heads, was juggling chainsaws on a tightrope, and arm wrestling Big Foot all at the same time. Which begs the question: what do you think Big Foot would look like in a _tutu_? Once the desk was in place I plopped down in _my_ seat comfortably.

"That... That's my desk!" Mac wailed like a baby.

"Correction," I said, "It _was _your desk." I said grinning wildly. I held a triumphant smirk as Mac continued to act like the big baby he was, silently wishing it was Lucas instead. Speaking of, I glanced over at him and he wasn't glaring at me or laughing at Mac like the other monkeys were. He was just staring straight at me with his ice-gray eyes. It felt awkward. So I flashed an over the top smile, declaring that I had won the battle and that I would also win the war. He immediately got a cocky look in his eyes and gave me a toothy grin. I started to glare daggers at him, simply because I hated his smile. Almost more then I hated his eyes. Because when he's happy, he smiles. Which usually tends to happen before, during, or after he inflicts misery upon me. Good god, do I hate him.

"You know, Jenny... can I call you that?" He asked all smug.

"**No.**" I replied instantly. I **hated** that nickname. He continued, not listening.

"Jenny, you really should be more careful with who you tend to _mess _with. You're skating on thin ice as it is."

''At least I didn't get my ass beat by the same girl twice in one day." I retaliated. I don't know so much about _friends_, but I'm pretty **damn** good at making enemies. Lucas didn't have time to argue back because Mac suddenly jumped up shouting:

"Professor Wilson! Professor Wilson! The American stole my seat!" You started it.

"I did not! I just got here!"

"Liar!" True. Mr. Wilson glanced over to the empty space where Mac's seat once was, then sighed and mumbled something about it being _"too early"_ and how he _"should have got to medical school". _He then faced Mac once more as he continued walking.

"Mr. Stein, there is no way Ms. Thompson would be able to steal your seat, let alone remove it from the classroom, without a large amount of students and faculty noticing. I'll inform the headmaster later." Mr. Wilson said rolling his eyes as he set down a few of his things on his desk. Mac looked around franticly.

"AH HA! You there! Girl!" He shouted pointing at a mousy looking girl with messy brown hair who just walked in. "You saw it didn't you? The American stealing my desk! You _saw_ her, _right_?" He winked secretively at her.

"Uh..." The girl looked at me, then back at Mac," Er... No. I didn't." Mac stared at her awestruck.

"HA!" I shouted as I jumped and pointed a finger at Mac accusingly as Mr. Wilson told me to quiet down. The "one minute bell" rang and a large amount of students started walking in and a bit of running could be heard down the hallways. The girl who didn't rat me out for the, somewhat, false crime sat a few seats over. I then realized it was the same girl who had almost followed me home from the club the night I met Rudolph. Her name, unsurprisingly, escaped me. Some thing with an "S" I think... Or maybe it was a "T"... Either way, I was shocked I could tell it was her. She was covering up every inch over her skin, apart from the ends of her hands and her face, and looked like she was much thicker then I had previously seen her to be. Not to mention she was now wearing rather large round glasses. She shuffled uncomfortably under my gaze, glancing over in hopes it would make me turn away. Was this really the same drunk-ass chick from before, or did she possibly have a twin sister? As the final bell rang I turned my attention to the front of the class, where Mac was throwing a hissy fit because Mr. Wilson just told him to sit on the floor. Oh! Idea~! I turned to Lucas, who sat a few seats behind me. His blue-steel gaze latched onto my ivy-honey orbs the second I looked at him, almost as though he had been waiting for me to turn around.

"Talk about 'at attention'." I murmured to no one in particular. His face lifted as though he were wanting and waiting for me to speak to him. I suddenly perked up. "Really, Lucas? That's great! You're such a kind gentleman. Mr. Wilson!" I shouted as I spun forward and raised my hand.

"That's** PROFESSOR**." He replied, aggravated with my American-ness. Per usual.

"Er, right. Sorry. Professor, guess what!"

He sighed "What _now_, Ms. Thompson?"

"It's Lucas!" I replied with a smile," He _actually _just offered up his seat to Mr. Stein!" Mr. Professor Wilson was taken back, as was the rest of the class. He turned to Lucas.

"_Really_, Mr. McCashton? That's not like you at all." Before Lucas could protest, or I could butt in, Mac sprinted for Lucas' desk and shoved him off the chair. To which Mac then promptly stole.

"Thanks mate!" He shouted," You the best friend a guy could ask for! Yep, no one's better then you! Second to none!" I beg to differ. I have a _stalker_ 200 times better then him. Mac knew it was a lie (I think?), but he, like Lucas, often only ever looked out for himself. And, after that _small_ show of gratitude, if Lucas were to take his seat back would make him look like a total ass. But if he didn't he'd have to sit on the floor. I snickered. Either way it was a win-win for me. Lucas decided to act the part of a gentlemen, and walked away from his desk (fixing his hair). I shook with silent laughter. That worked rather nicely, if I do say so myself. Of course, not every thing can go your way all at once. Lucas had swiftly walked down our row and was now leaning against_ my_ desk. I was about to tell him off when he put a hand on my shoulder with a painfully hard grip.

"Thank you for voicing my decision, _Jenny_." He said faking a soothing and gentle voice. "Though I think maybe next time you should just keep **quiet,**" He dug his nails into my skin on the last word. I flinched under the pain," and remember who you're messing with." He said in a deadly whisper. He went to take his hand away, but I grabbed it ferociously tight.

"Sorry, Luke-y. Just can't help myself. An American thing, you know?"I giggled sweetly as my nails began to draw blood. He ripped his hand away, causing scratches to form (nice job dumb-ass), and cursed under his breath. I gave him my best smile.

.

.

.

The rest of that class had been pretty much the same all the way though. Lucas had decided to sit on the floor next to me. I think the two of us combined will send Ms. Wilson to an early grave. But he decided to act before his death took place and sent us to the principle's office (well, headmaster, but whatever). Lucas tried to kill me every five seconds by nearly slamming me into the lockers until I started sprinting for the office. The bastard was hot on my tail the entire time. We actually ended up slamming into a suddenly opened door. Well, _I_ slammed into the door. _He_ sandwiched into me. So instead of the Principle's office we ended up needing to go to the nurses office.

"You come here often, don't you Ass-hole?" I asked while we were each laying down on one of the beds.

"Fuck you." He answered not looking up from the ice pack laid on top of his face. I rolled onto my stomach, holding my ice pack and constantly switching it between the places where I ran into a door and where Lucas had crashed into me.

"I'm just_ saying_. You were here yesterday and again today. Do you have the hots for one of the school nurses?" I asked pulling my, yet to be taken, cellphone out of my skirt-pocket and texting Lindsay, an old friend from California. Lucas sat up so fast I heard his ice pack fall onto the floor.

"**WHAT!**"

"Ice pack fell." I said not looking up from the screen. I hated his eyes. He scoffed picking it up and grumbled some kind of insult. "Yeah, I hate you too, buddy."

"You know, you really ought to learn your place, American. And should stop playing around in cemeteries."

"Why so, sir fuck-face?" I asked putting away my phone and holding my ice pack on my forehead as I rolled onto my back once more. He sneered at me.

"Well, little American girls tend to go missing."

"And why is that?" I said calmly, as I got curious, and pulled the ice pack over my eyes.

"Because they get too comfortable around... certain types of people."

"Like dead people? Cause those are the only types I've ever found in grave yards. Not to mention Scottish teens harassing small boys, but still."

"I was trying to do my part for the greater good!"

"By harassing little kids? Yea, swell job there, shit-head." I was on a roll with these insults. It's what he gets for calling me Jenny! Lucas swatted the ice pack off my face.

"No, you stupid little git! You know what? Go play in the cemetery, in fact, go turn up in a ditch somewhere! See if I care!" I picked up the pack and put it back over my eyes.

"Why in the hell would you care _anyway_, snot-breath? We hate each others guts! We're practically mortal enemies." He stayed perfectly silent. Perfectly still. I couldn't even hear him breathing. I pulled the ice pack up gently. "Am I wrong?" I smiled insultingly.

He stared at me, with a cloudy glaze sitting in his navy-gray eyes. He didn't say anything as he laid back down and turned on his side, away from me. Was he pouting? I now sat up in bed and stared at my arch enemy. Then to the ice pack in my lap. I heard my Aunt walk into the other room, stood up, and threw the ice pack at him as I walked out into main part of the nurses office.

"_Weirdo_." I called back to him.

_End Chap Eight_

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I love you all so much! X3**


	9. Black Out

**Hello my little Darlings,**

**Did you miss me?**

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Chapter Nine: Black Out

As it turns out, I had a mild concussion. Aunt Dot and I found that out the hard way when she was lecturing me in the car and I lost consciousness. I mean, yeah, it's not surprising that I'd be knocked out during a lecture, but this time was different. And apparently, I scared her so badly she almost crashed into a tree. I woke up a few hours later in the hospital, where the doctor explained what had happened, gave me a few things of pills (most of which were vitamins), and told me to get lots of rest (anything that involves sleeping is okay by me, not to mention an excuse to skip PE). Then, finally, we left. On the car ride home, Aunt Dot was really quiet. I think it's because she's afraid she somehow triggered my loss of consciousness. But the silence ended by the time we got home. By that time, a mixture of dark violet and deep blue filled the sky.

"I just don't get it," she said quietly as she closed the front door. I paused on the fourth step of the stairs.

"What don't you get?" I asked cautiously.

Aunt Dot looked up at me with somber eyes. "You," she murmured almost inaudibly.

"Huh?" Perhaps I would have understood her if I hadn't blacked out earlier, but right now I didn't.

"I don't understand why you have to do those things. Why you can't just talk things out with Lucas, why you have to solve all your problems violently?"

"I don't solve _all _my problems violently. And he started it," I retorted like a child.

"Jennive," she said in a tired voice, "It doesn't matter who started it, you should know better by now."

"What? I don't even know what you're talking about. I was running away from him in the halls, I ran into a door, and Lucas ran into me. How should I have known better? The door jumped out on me. If anything, Lucas shouldn't have been chasing me. And the whole reason I was running away from him is 'cause he was shoving me into the lockers!"

"Jen, don't blame this on him. And I'm sure Lucas McCashton wouldn't do something like that. I've met him before."

"Yeah,_ one _time. At a big fancy party where he was on his best behavior in front of his grandpa's guests, and apparently talking about me like we were in love. And, let me guess, the twins were talking about Tony like they were all best friends, right?" I looked away from her, shaking my head, slightly disgusted that she had fallen for such an act. She sighed and started walking towards the kitchen.

"I'm getting tired of this," she mumbled, rubbing her temples.

I stormed up the stairs and stomped into my room, slamming the door behind me. Did she think I hadn't heard her? Or did she say that just so that I could hear it? Why would she say something like that? I mean, I know I'm not the best kid in the world, but I don't deserve to be thrown around by people who don't want me around. Wait. Is she thinking about sending me to someone else in the family? Is that what she meant?

I plopped down onto my bed, face first.

When she said she was tired of this, did she mean she was tired of me? Is she getting sick of me being here? Sick of me being around her family and influencing her son? Am I ruining her life? Does she want to send me away, too? Am I that bad of a kid, of a person, that nobody wants me around? Does she... hate me?

I felt eyes watching me, laughing at me, pointing and saying how hated I was. Telling me no one liked me, that I would be sent from person to person, until they ran out of family members and my failed excuse of a Father sent me to a boarding school. I was being laughed by non-existing eyes. My eyes, however, were very real and starting to tear up. My breathing became uncontrollable and ragged and my nose began to run. **Fuck**. Some people can pull off being cute while crying. Quite frankly, I'm not included in that little party.

"Not even going to greet me?"

I froze in place. Not _now_. I lifted my face off of my pillow and looked towards my closet, where _he_ was leaning against the doorframe, totally nonchalant.

I gave him my best Glare of Death. "Go away, Gregory," I growled, stuffing my face back into my pillow. "I'm not in the mood. What the hell are you even doing here?" I asked as I flopped onto my back.

He shrugged. "I was bored and came here in hope of scaring you. It's become standard entertainment for me."

"Like I said, not in the** mood**." I stared at the ceiling and tried to wipe the tears off of my face surreptitiously.

"You have a mood to be frightened in?" he said with a smirk.

"Yes. And that is not this mood. In this mood, I am more likely to punch the shit out of you than scream at you."

"Well aren't we sophisticated?"

"Fuck you," I snapped at him. He stayed silent after that. For a long time. So long, I started to wonder if he had left. I didn't really want to be alone, but I didn't want him to be here either. I turned to check and he was still there. In fact he hadn't moved an inch, or better yet he hadn't moved a centimeter. I flung my face back into my pillow.

"Go _awaaaaaaay_!" I yelled, but my voice was muffled by my pillow.

"Hmm. I think not."

I raised my head just enough to rest my chin on my pillow. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that smirk still playing on his lips. "Bastard." I said loudly. I could've sworn I heard something like a chuckle, but I wasn't sure.

"By the way, why do you have a bruise on your forehead?" he asked, his voice was more gentle now. Crap, he saw that? I didn't even know it was already bruising.

"No idea. Maybe I tripped and hit my head. I do that a lot, you know," I mumbled. Suddenly, I felt his icy hand on my cheek. He turned my face towards his, which was just inches away. If I had been in my normal state of mind, I would have shrieked and jumped forty feet back at his sudden closeness. But I didn't. I just stared and let myself be stared at. I almost felt a blush rising as he looked me over. Silently, he took in all the features of my face, as though he had forgotten them. As though he wanted to remember them. Finally words were spoken. A whisper really. Like he was out of breath.

"Who is Lucas?" His red gaze searched through my hazel eyes for an answer. Of course. Everything in the universe somehow leads back to fucking Luke-_ASS_.

As the genius I admittedly am, I responded with a logical and almost poetic answer:

"An ass-hole." I turned my head away from him, and glared at the wall. Stupid wall. It was obviously the source of all my problems. Stupid fucking wall. I felt Gregory's eyes boring into the back of my head.

"An arse-hole?"

"No. Not_ arse_-hole An **ass**-hole. _Aaaaaaasssssssssssssss-_hole. You gotta say it the American way or it loses all meaning."

"The American way?"

"Yes. The proper way to speak is American."

"I thought we were speaking English."

"No, no. Well... Actually, _you're_ speaking English._ I'm_ speaking American."

"What's the difference?"

"American is the freedom language," I said in a matter-of-factly tone. "Like, 'rubber' means 'condom'. But that's about it."

He cocked his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. "What's a con—"

"ANYWAY," I interrupted loudly, not wanting to go through Sex 101 with him. Man, you'd think that every teenage boy, human or vampire, would at least know that much about sex. Anyway, he continued to look at me with the same confused, maybe even frustrated, face. Then his eye fired up and he quickly swung his head towards the door. I quickly sat up and asked, "What is it?"

Gregory started to glare at the wall as if he was trying to burn it down with his eyes. Was the wall the cause of all his problems too? Who would've guessed? I leaned over and turned on my lamp, which only gave off a dim light. Gregory's eyes were still glued to the door.

"What? What? What is it?" I asked glancing from him to the door and back to him, getting anxious and slightly annoyed that I wasn't getting an answer.

"Someone's here," he finally explained in a low voice. Once he managed to tear his eyes away from the door, he walked towards my balcony.

"Who?" I so cleverly asked. I didn't get a response as he exited my room. Where the hell was he going to hide on my balcony? There's only a small part of it that you can't see through the window. I heard voices and footsteps coming towards my room, one of them my aunt. (So good, it wasn't the murderer, ninja, etc, from nights before.). I quickly crawled to the front of my bed and leaned against the wall. Yes, for those of you who were wondering, against the wall that causes all of my problems. I reached over to the nightstand opposite my lamp and grabbed whatever magazine I idly left there days before and quickly turned to a page close to the middle. But not the exact middle. That would be too obvious. Of course with my luck I had turned to a page with the title: "Five Simple Ways to Know He's Into You". Of course.

I quickly skimmed it before there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said, trying to sound like there wasn't a hot vampire on my balcony. My Aunt walked in first, an expectant smile on her face. What she was expecting, I have no clue. She was followed by an old man with a mustache, wearing a beige colored high-end suit (which I assume was meant to be casual), and a monocle. I swear to God. A _freaking_ monocle. Who the hell wears a freaking monocle nowadays, anyway? And finally, bringing up the rear, as he always does:

_"Lucas?" _I shrilled, almost tearing the magazine in half. Mr. Monocle almost fell backwards, shocked by my response. His monocle came off in the process. Recovering from shock, he gave me a dumbfounded face. I could feel a pair of eyes watching us from the balcony and I knew it wasn't just my paranoia.

My aunt and Fuckface—whoops, I mean Lucas—were unperturbed by my freak out. In fact, Luke-Ass smirked at the sound of his name. **SMIRKED**. That narcissistic bastard.

"Jen," my aunt said, getting my attention, "_This_ is _Lord_ McCashton, Lucas'_ grandfather_." She really _emphasized _her _words_ to ensure that _I_ would be on_ my _best _behavior._ **Not**. (And no wonder the guy had a monocle. That is such a grandfather thing, you know? Old rich farts like that are practically entitled to have such an accessory.)

"Nice to meet ya, sir. Lucas talks about you all the time," I said to Mr. McCashton, who smiled and looked proudly towards his eldest grandson. I went on, "Yeah, he usually throws your name around to get his way. It's nice to meet you in the flesh and know he wasn't completely lying when he said he had money in his back pocket." Mr. McCashton looked back at his grandson, a bit pissed this time. I looked back down with a smile on my face.

Lucas rushed up to my bedside. "May I have a word with you?" he asked ever so politely, making me want to stab him with a spork.

"Speak."

"Privately?" He nodded towards my balcony. I gave him a hard stare before flickering my eyes to my Aunt. She, still smiling, nodded her head like a giddy schoolgirl. I let out a heavy sigh.

"_Fiiiiiiiiiiine_," I moaned, rolling my eyes as I turned to get out of bed. Lucas offered me his hand, I ignored it, and we walked out to me balcony. Lucas closed the glass door behind me as I folded my arms. "Okay. We're alone. Talk." Lies. Gregory's watching. I can feel it. Or is it the ghost of my alarm clock...? Either way, we were being observed.

"You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot." He looked at me to say something; I raised an eyebrow. He continued," I... can admit it was mostly my fault."

"Well aware. Now what the hell do you want? Cut to the chase before I throw you over." I gestured to the stone ledge. Lucas stuck his hands in his pockets and walked over to the ledge, positioning himself next to me.

"Well, the problem with that is, you've already thrown me over the edge. More than one in fact." He was beside me now. He leaned towards me, like he was going to tell me a secret. "And _you_, whether I say what I want or not, will not be throwing me over_ this _particular ledge." He glanced back into my room. I followed his eyes back to our family members who were chatting away. And unfortunately searching my room—don't you** touch** my iPod, old man. We looked back at each other. I straightened my back.

"Fine. How 'bout off the Empire State? Or Big Ben? That's closer."

"Not quite." God, I hate his eyes. I wish he'd stop looking at me like that. That smug look. Those stupid eyes. And his irritating voice. "I have a proposal for you."

"Not caring."

"I figured as much. A woman like you..."

"Excuse me?"

"I want something from you." I don't like where this is headed.

"You're not getting anything from me."

"Oh, I think I am."

"I am 46 seconds away from slapping you shitless, you fucking douche, unless you explain yourself this instant."

"You snuck out last night. And I'm willing to bet it wasn't your first time, the way you were dressed."

"So I go out dancing, sue me."

"Does your Aunt know you go club hopping?"

"It wouldn't be a shock, if that's what you're asking."

"No it wouldn't, now would it? In fact, it would be something expected of the black sheep. And with a record like yours, well, one's imagination can go wild. By the by, did you actually do the drugs, or was that really your stepmother's doing?" I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close and spoke in a shrill whisper, as though that would keep the prying ears from hearing.

"How the hell do you know about that? And, _no._ I** didn't**, for what its worth. Though to a slime ball like you that wouldn't be much, _now would it_?" I mimicked. He shrugged.

"As I said. One's imagination can go_ wild_." He said... was he trying to _seduce_ me? I shoved him away.

"Well you can knock out whatever sick ass thoughts your imagination's come up with, or I'll do it for you." I turned around and put my hand the handle. Aunt Dot was showing off my closet now, judging by the shadows coming from inside it. My arm was pulled back, and seeing as how I'm attached to it, my body followed.

"Now, now, you stupid American. There are a lot of handles that come with being a club hopper. None of them are pretty, really. Druggy, alcoholic, a whore."

"I'm **none** of those things. I go for the music."

"Oh, I know. I know, I know. But," He forced me closer to him," everyone else might not. After all, who would you believe?" He stroked my face." A violent, rebellious, little delinquent? Or, an upper-class, well-educated, Lord's grandson... With evidence?" He raised his cell phone. When did he pull that out? He started to look through it. "Fun little fact: your favorite club happens to be a favored club of a few mates. I've got quite a few pictures here. You really know how to move, don't you?" He asked showing me a picture of me, indeed moving it, from a few nights ago. I tried to snatch his phone, but to no avail.

"Give it to me!"

"No. I said I wanted something, and I'm damn well going to get it. Maybe afterwards I'll hand it over. You never know." He said sickeningly sweet. I glared at him nice and long.

"**Fine**." I barely managed my voice,"** What do you want**?" I asked with venom practically spewing out from behind my clenched teeth.

"_Simple_," he said with a laughing smile that I imagined ripping off his face. "I. Want. A. Date."

I almost blacked out again. And someone else was growling.

It_ wasn't_ Lucas.

_End chap. Nine_

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**Goodbye my Lovelys! Goodbye!**

**Stay good! Do well in life! May demons become confused on the way to your doorstep! ****Raise that D in math to a C! **

******See ya next time~ ;)**


	10. Bastard

**Okay. Not even going to bother with any excuses. My life has been and will continue to be a hellhole.**

**Thank you though, for sticking with me throughout my absence. :) I _will not_ abandon this story. However, I can't make any false promises about being back, so don't expect me to update quickly.**

**I apologize beforehand if their are any mistakes, or if something if worded strangely. My lovely editor has been even more swamped than I have this past year, so I didn't want to put any more stress on her. **

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Chapter Ten: Bastard

Since then, it had been a painfully slow week. I was almost constantly reminded of my ''commitment'' by lingering eyes, whispers throughout the school, and the excitement radiating off Bastard and Aunt Dot. Not to mention I _refuse_ to go out clubbing now, knowing Lucas had his little spies everywhere; that just about killed me. And to top it all off, Gregory seemed to be expressing his utter disapproval by avoiding me.

And,_ No, _for those of you wondering, I did not faint when Lucas asked me out. Nor did I punch him (sadly). And, _no, _Gregory did not come out of his hiding spot and kill him (unfortunately). And also, _no,_ Lucas did not randomly burst into flames (tragic). Of course, nothing in my life ever _really _goes how I want it to. Something about the laws of physics and me not being God, or whatever.

Oh, yes. I _am _currently in a dress. A sparkly dark green and creamy white ensemble, complete with ruffles and ribbons. I repeat: _ruffles _and _ribbons_. The dress puffed out and stopped near my knees. It was itchy, and extremely tight. Of course, since one of Luke-Ass' assistants dropped it off, he probably bought it himself. So I'm not too surprised the top half is as, _ahem,_ formfitting as it is. In fact, I'm probably lucky it wasn't a cocktail with slits. It was _so_ tight, though; I was having a difficult time slouching on the couch comfortably. However, I was bound and determined. If I want to slouch, then goddamn it, I am going to slouch! Add a caked layer of make-up and princess curls to this concoction of _pure happiness _and you get me, myself, and I. Aka, a pissed off teenager armed with a scowl that would make the bravest of men cower behind their mothers in fear.

Don't mess with me. You will die**. Painfully.**

"If it makes you feel any better, I think you look pretty," Tony complemented in a hushed voice. He seemed to have hopes of stopping my plans to destroy the existence of humanity. Or to, at least, stop looking like I would.

"Thanks, kiddo, but it _really _doesn't help." The 'date', for those of you wondering, was for me to be Luke-ass' tag-along at another party his grandfather was holding. That man has too many parties, if you ask me. I don't care if he wears a fricken monocle, enough is ENOUGH. And I've had more than enough McCashton to last me a_ lifetime._

"_Dear God_," I prayed aloud, looking towards the heavens, "If there really is a God, and you're really listening to me right now... Please. _Save your child._"

Lucas however did not get into a horribly mangled, skull crushing, disabling accident because he was knocking on the door. Which I was _so_ **not** answering. Aunt Dot rushed out of the kitchen, only stopping to tell me to get up, and happily opened the door. She giddily chatted with him for a moment as I forced myself to stand. I looked to the ceiling.

"Oh. So you're one of those 'look but don't touch' kinda gods, huh?" I muttered before walking over to the door.

I absolutely hate to admit this, but Lucas actually was_ really_ good looking. He was dressed in a stylish, but not too flashy, dark grey suit with a green tie that matched my dress. His sandy blonde locks were combed back with an elegant curve in front. He was a little less than half a head taller than myself, which I seem to keep forgetting. I couldn't help but want to look up a little higher, which would, on another boy, be where red meets hazel. Sadly, I'm looking slightly lower with icy-grey meeting my eyes instead. He was awfully handsome. Unfortunately, he had this really bad habit of opening his mouth and pushing weird sounds out.

"Well, don't you look presentable?" There's that bad habit again. I smiled and started praying in my head: '_Dear Satan,_ smite him and you get my soul. _Kthnxbye_. '

I'll admit the McCashton Manor was incredible. Boarder-line amazing. And it would have been _totally _amazing if not for a certain someone pointing out how **ASTONISHING** it was. Or how the **GREATEST** architect of the 18th century had drawn out the floor plan. Or _blah, blah, blah_, I'm rich, _blah, blah, blah_, most girls would kill to be in your position, _blah, blah, blah_, I'll never work a day in my life,_ blah, blah, blah_, I'm telling you all this cause I want you to know just how amazing I am,_ blah, blah, blah._

"Can't we talk about something other than you or your family for a change?" I interupted. He stopped gabbing and looked at me with an unsure look in his eyes. _Why?_ they seemed to be asking. _Why talk about anything _other _than himself? Wasn't his family the best topic for conversation? His family was rich, well-known, and in high standing. Not to mention, he himself was absolutely fantastic. Why _shouldn't_ the two of us talk about him all night long?_

"It's_ really _annoying." I informed him. He seemed surprised by this and didn't say anything else as we went up the long driveway. When I glanced over at him, I couldn't tell if he was sulking or just trying to think up a conversation.

The music was semi-loud, classical, though I couldn't tell you much more because it was giving me a screaming headache. The bagpipes weren't helping save **any** lives at this point. My job as a date was simple enough: walk around with Lucas, look pretty, laugh or nod my head every once and a while, and try to pretend like I wasn't the one who accidently broke the ice sculpture by the food table.

This was definitely not my kind of scene. The music, for one, was slowly destroying my brain cells. The Manor had glittering floors, walls, and sculptures that appeared to be priceless. It occurred to me that, in doing business with someone like Lord McCashton, Uncle Bob would never have to worry about looking for work again. In fact, his business would probably even be fought over by a list of high ranking clients. But this crowd wasn't for me. I knew all these people, without knowing any of them. I had seen their type before, at my father's business functions when I was younger. Nobody here cared about the person they were talking to; or even the person they were here with. Everyone lied. Lied about the music, about how well they were doing, about this and that and everything. No one really went past the formalities.

I wanted loud thrashing. I wanted yelling. I wanted bodies moving in awe-inspiring fashions. I wanted drunks to beat my frustrations out on. I wanted to scream, tear my eyes out, and lash out on whoever got too close.

I all I got however was classical music and bagpipes. The pompous laughter of an ancient, but amused wealthy woman. Graceful movements to match the music. And a sea of soft spoken voices. Even Lucas was relatively quiet. Once it got to the point where strangling my fingers no longer keeping my homicidal cravings a bay, I excused myself.

I roamed around the large house, searching for some means of an escape. I smiled and nodded my head at all the people I made eye-contact with, hating every moment of it. Just as I had years before as a little girl. I finally found my way to a large balcony; it seemed the small crowd out there was having a party of their own. Completely severed off from the one just mere inches away. The outdoor party had it's own music, too: fiddles, flutes, bagpipes, and a tambourine. It actually sounded a lot better than you might think. A more enjoyable celtic style than whatever the hell had been being played at that other party. This flock of higher-ups were considerably looser, too. Most likely because the glasses in their hands were nearing the bottom; if not already empty.

I walked to the end of the terrace, away from both parties, towards a small bushel of red rose looking flowers; which had been cut to perfection. Bored out of my mind, I plucked all the petals off one, gathered them in my palms and released them when a small gust of wind came. In my mind I looked like a Disney princess after singing the opening musical number, but in reality I probably just looked ridiculous. Regardless, I was rather proud of how far my petals seemed to be flying away. Like they were on a mission. Yes! Fly, my pretties! Find a way for me to escape this well-furnished prison!

They danced over and beyond the tops of the faraway pine trees I could just barely see under the thin vail of moonlight. I decided it would alleviate my headache if I stayed outside for just a few more minutes. The air was chilled, and I was a bit cold. Not cold enough to convince me to return to the party any sooner, heavens no. But still enough to be mentioned off-handedly.

I walked along the darkened shadows of the McCashton Manor, eyeing all of the flowers and the like. Giving their all to add an air of sophistication to the unworthy surroundings. I hate to admit it, but it was absolutely stunning. I wanted to walk down the steps and wander through the fairy tale garden, but the shadows from the party's light turned into hellish creatures dancing in the garden. So I stayed above them, taking in the beautifully blooming flora from a safe distance.

I silently wondered how many people had ever actually stopped to enjoy garden. Not many, I thought bitterly. People like the McCashtons only had large and lavish things to appear large and lavish themselves. If they wanted to, they could probably have the lawn ripped out and moved to a different side of the house, just because it was less cloudy on that side. Wasting all that money for absolutely no reason. Don't they know how many people they could help just on the money used for the upkeep of this unused garden? I gave a deep sigh.

"The world is so unfair..." I muttered to myself.

"You've got an annoying habit of not greeting me."

"Well excuse me for- _**What the hell?**_" I screeched, gaining some drunken stares. I quickly threw my hands in front of my mouth and stared at the young, wincing vampire. The prying eyes turned away, no longer interested.

"By all means, talk louder. It isn't like I really_ need_ my hearing." He said with a grimace, rubbing one of his ears. I put my hands down and glanced around before straightening up.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered urgently. Gregory didn't seem to notice. He was too distracted by my appearance. My skin prickled and a blush began to rise as I felt his eyes smooth over my every feature. Not just looking at me. No. Being looked at I could deal with. This was on a completely different level. He was drinking me in, etching my mold into his mind, like he had nights before. I could hardly breath but forced out a scoff, then placed a hand on my hip and the other on my head in a mock sexy pose.

"Forget what you're missing out on?"

He brought his eyes to mine. Said, "You look ridiculous, mortal." then when right back to my body.

"Fuck off, Bat Boy!" I roared, stomping in the opposite direction; cheeks burning with rage and embarrassment. Gregory shot out in front of me at a dizzying speed, causing me to loose balance and fall back. He caught me with his quick reflexes, but I regained my footing and pushed him away just as fast. I turned on my heel, crossing my arms, getting ready to storm off in the other direction. Gregory circled to my front and held my cold shoulders in his icy hands. Trying to get me to focus on him. I looked away.

"Don't. You'll trip again."

I managed an inaudible "Fuck you." as my anger slowly drained into utter humiliation. My cheeks were aflame and I could feel tears prickling behind my eyes. He gave a long sigh, then bent himself down to my eye level. I still didn't look at him. Heaven forbid I actually cried in front of him for something as stupid as his opinion on an outfit. I would die of sheer embarrassment and probably end up crying even more!

"I didn't mean you looked stupid. I- No, I did- but not that way. You looked... funny."

My head snapped to him, furiously threatening him with my flaming hazels. "_Funny?_ Here I am, all dolled up, and you think I look_ funny!"_ I shrieked.

"Wh- No! You don't look- The way you were standing earlier that was- That- " He made an annoyed sound with the back of his throat and lowered his head in defeat. I continued to stare daggers into his head. Slowly he raised himself to his full hight and held onto me with new found confidence. "You look... Stunning. Really. I... I don't think I've every seen such a beautiful woman in my entire time of living."

I couldn't possibly look him in the eye after he said that, forget about glaring. Glancing this way and that, I avoided his eyes at all cost as a new shade of red conjoined with my cheeks. I lightly began shooing his hands away, which let go with reluctance.

"Alright. Fine." I grumbled, "You're off the hook this time. But why are you here?"

"I'm here to save you," he said with a simple shrug. As though it were something he did every Friday night.

"Save me? Save me from _what?_" I asked curiously.

"Anything you could ever need saving from." His eyes and words played at my heart strings, but I gave him the most skeptic look a blushing girl could ever hope to give.

"Uh_ huh_. How did you say you knew where I was, again, Mr. stalker?"

"I have my ways." He replied with a wink. A freaking wink!

"Such as?"

Gregory was now at his most favored distance from me, with only the faintest of space between us. He came in closer until the only thing between our lips was something small, thin, and soft. I looked down carefully between the smirking, vampiric, madman and myself to find a single red petal. I don't want to make my head explode so I'll just pretend like I can't feel his lips behind the rose piece.

"Ah. Clever." I managed, feeling our lips brush against one another through the petal.

He pulled away from me and released the petal. I watched it flutter away. Anything to keep from his smoldering eyes. Once I finally looked back at him, I saw that he had kept his hand out to me. I guessed the idea was for me to, ya know, take it. And, as a simple teenaged girl with a heart pounding faster than it should: I did. He rewarded my hand with a light icy kiss before I was whisked away into the shadowy garden. He led me through the darkness until we were far enough, away from the drunken onlookers. Then he rose into the air and pulled me gently with him. The over all tender treatment was awkward for someone like me, especially coming from someone like Gregory, but it was one of those awkward things that you wish would last just a little longer.

I hadn't been paying attention to where we were going, so when we slowly descended onto a tree-limb I tried to take in my surroundings. It was too dark to make out anything other than trees, but there were lights in the distance, so we were either still fairly close to the Manor or so far away that we were near the city. Gregory moved to sit on the limb and I followed suit, not trusting my balancing act this high up in _heels_. My eyes were focused on the fairy dust glittering all across the cosmos. The amount of stars I could see was astonishing.

"They're everywhere..." I murmured. Los Angeles could never hope to see as many stars in a decade as I was right now.

Gregory hummed a response. "I've seen more."

"_Seriously?"_ I asked in disbelief. "_Where?_"

"It was a long time ago," he answered," before there were so many lights and buildings littered everywhere."

"Oh." He probably meant before the industrial revolution. That made sense. Though, I wasn't entirely sure when the industrial revolution started in Europe. I tried to think back to my years of US and World history; pouring through the dates and facts as best as I could remember them to be.

His velvety voice broke through my concentration: "I warn you, if you continue to ignore me I will be forced to bite you." I popped out of my miniature history lesson to give him a mockingly-fearful look. Complete with the overly-dramatic arm-propped-up-with-the-back-of-the-hand-on-the-forehead-thing.

"Oh _nooooo_. You mean after all we've been through? Oh, cruel world, you tricked me! Oh, you horrible, _horrible_ thing you! Bite me? Oh, _boo-hoo-hoo!_"

He more than easily picked up on my sarcasm. He didn't like it. "True, I may not have any actual plans of bitting you. However, that in no way should make you assume I will not push you out of this tree if you don't stop." He threatened.

"Yes, sir," I said turning stiff as a board and taking a fist full of his sleeve into my hand. He laughed. It stopped just as quick as it had started. He relaxed a little more and continued to gaze at me, almost in that love-struck sort of way teenagers have when they... Well, I wont get my hopes up, but surely you know what look I'm talking about by now. Yet_ by now_ he had changed his face to one of pondering confusion rather than blissful gawking.

"What?"

"Just a thought. As true or untrue as it may have been, you always have had an idea to why I was..." He searched for the word... "_interested_ in you, Jennive."

I nodded, realizing that was the first time I ever heard him say my name. Initially, I had thought he was hanging around me specifically for my blood, but that turned out to be false. As proven by the numerous amounts of times he could have already done so.

"Most mortals," he continued," would be running for the hills at the mere mention of a vampire. Yet, not only do you_ not_ run from me, you actually _trust_ me not to hurt you. I dare you might even enjoy my company. Why?"

I cleared my throat. "Well for starters, you've obviously never heard of the _Cullen_ family."

"The _who_?"

_"Exactly."_

"You're stalling." Indeed I was. And I would continue to do so.

"Tell me the reason _you_ like being around _me_ so much, and _maybe_ I'll tell you."

He backed away a little. It was only at this moment I realized how closely we were sitting next to each other. He looked embarrassed. Though, without the blood to make him blush, it was hard to be sure.

"Oh, _now_ you don't wanna talk? Come on. Fair's fair! Or maybe you don't really wanna hear why I stick around?" I said smugly. He smiled.

"That." I blinked.

_ "That?_"

"Yes. _That._ That... I don't know what it is. The way you... Speak, and... Dress, and act, and everything. It's... It's nothing like how women are meant to be- I mean, at least, not how they were meant to be when I was still..." We silently agreed upon what he had meant. "You're just... _interesting_..."

"Soooo..." I looked away trying to piece it together," You like me 'cause I'm different?" I locked on his eyes. It was funny having _him_ be the flustered one for a change. I could see the appeal.

"I... I guess... In a sense... I mean, I_ suppose_..." He said, not really want to admit to anything. Though I snickered at his reaction, I _did _feel a little bad for him. Turning emotions and thoughts into actual words was a hard thing to do.

"All right. Why do you _'like'_ being with me?" He said trying to imitating the way I had said it, but the tiny differences made it hard to speak.

"C-Cause..."

"_Because_...?" I turned scarlet. Good God, how I hate the teenaged nervous system.

"'Cause... you're... uh... Y-You know. You're..." I tried. I really did try to form words, but they just wouldn't come out. Instead, I ended up flailing my arms around like an idiot and having Gregory laugh at me.

"You're not very good with your words, are you?"

"Oh, you were only slightly better!" He continued to smirk and raised an eyebrow at me. Waiting. Staring. Fuck.

"I like you- I mean, I like _being_ _around you_ 'cause you're not like... any other guy I've met. And not just the vampire part, even if it is pretty cool. It's just 'cause, ya know, you..." I searched for the words. "You just have this thing about you. I'm not sure what it is. It's a little crazy, but you just... seem to understand a lot of the things about me, better than most. Maybe even more than I do. I don't really know _why _or_ what_ it is about you, to be honest. But there_ is_ something about you... Something that I like." It took an eternity to get out that handful of sentences, which made me feel like a moronic dingbat, I might add. I secretly hoped Gregory had gotten bored with my little speech and stopped paying attention to me. Upon glancing at him, my wishes were unfulfilled as the red pools took in my very being once more.

"Well, aside from the more than obvious insanity-"

"Hey!"

"You like me because I'm different?" He paused, and I mumbled a quick "Maybe" in an embarrassed response. "Hm. Now, where have I heard that before?" he teased. I turned to him, still redder than hell.

"I _may_ like you, and you _may_ be able to fly, but neither of those things will stop me from throwing you off this tree, if you keep that up," I warned, mimicking his earlier threat. He nodded.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he said reclaiming my hand in his own.

"Good."

We stayed like that for awhile in a comfortable silence, but in the back of my mind it kept gnawing at me. I had to go back to that house. Back to that party. To that ass-hole. The 'I got lost on my way way to the bathroom' trick can only work for so long an absence. And after at least half an hour, it doesn't hold so well.

"I should be getting back."

"Why?" Gregory asked, offended.

" 'Cause if I don't, Luke-Ass will think I ditched."

"But you did. To be with me, remember?" He said leaning closer to me, trying to get his point across. (Yes I blushed. Shut up).

"Yeah, but he's blackmailing me, remember? If I don't go back, he'll probably end up convincing everyone and their mothers I'm a no-good whore." Gregory furrowed his brows.

"You're not a... whore," he said, almost not wanting to use that word in my presence.

"I know that, but I don't want everyone in Scotland thinking I am. Not to mention, with Facebook- Oh my god- That shit's gonna get to somebody who knows somebody who knows my dad. And that will not be pretty in the slightest. So no thank you."

"Hm." Isn't he thoughtful? A true poet, really. "I don't like him," he stated bluntly. I stared at him in confusion. "Lucas." He clarified.

"Lucas?" I asked, almost disbelievingly. "Why do you hate him? I mean, not that I blame you or anything, but..."

"He touched you," he answered simply, as though it were supposed to make sense.

"He..._ touched_ me? Yeah, a lot of people do that. It's kind of impossible for a person to not not be touched at some point throughout their lifetime."

"No. Those few nights ago. He touched you here," He moved his hand up to my wrist," ...and here." He held an icy hand against my cheek, stroking it gently. "I didn't like it. Not. One. Bit." His eyes were hellbent on stealing not only my breath, but my soul as well. I'm almost entirely sure of it.

"O-Oh." Slowly, _painfully slowly_, Gregory leaned in closer. A longing glance at my lips before returning to my eyes. My free hand raised cautiously to caress his jawline. The forrest was quiet before, but now I couldn't hear anything over the sound of my heartbeat. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I heard myself wonder if he could hear it, too. His lips pulled into a knowing smirk. I took that as a yes.

Suddenly, Gregory's eyes ripped away from mine, behind us, towards the thicker part of the woods. He gave a light growl. I tried to follow his line of sight, but hell knows I couldn't see a half a meter past my nose. He let me go and stood up; my body shouted in protest wanting to be held just a little longer.

"Rookery is near, we must to go," he said, picking me up, scaring me shitless, and putting me down just as fast. Only, we weren't in a tree anymore. Not even on the outskirts of the forest. In fact, we were in the shadows of the large outdoor patio. The guests to the party were nearby, in the light. It was déjà vu, and I was confused, to say the least.

"Where-? We-? How-? I don't even- What?" My confusion towards the sudden change dissolved quickly as a cold finger hooked under my chin and iced lips graced my own. Before the shock even came, the kiss was over and the culprit was long gone. I lightly put my hand to my tingling mouth before turning beat red and rushing inside, cursing under my breath:

"B-Bastard."

_End Chap. ten_

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**Thank you for being so patient and understanding with me.**

**You are seriously the most wonderful readers in the ****universe**! *hearts*  



	11. It's Not Okay

**This is a ****_very_**** pathetic update considering how long it's been... Sorry guys. I really ****_do_**** want to finish this story, but my heart's just no longer in it. A lot has changed since I began writing this story. **

**I've been very tempted to rewrite the earlier chapters, but- let's be honest here- it's probably not going to happen. Either way, I hope you like this miniscule chapter I've been able to scrap up for you.**

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_Start chapter 11: It's Not Okay_

It's safe to say I didn't sleep well that night. At first, I just didn't want to fall asleep. But, could you really blame me? I mean that was... out of this world. Things like that just don't happen in real life. I mean, forget about the whole vampire thing- that's another inner conversation all in itself- I'm talking about him as a boy. Young man. And me. As a girl, working her way into becoming a young woman. Was this really happening? Was it a dream? Was this all a nightmare gone good? Could someone like Gregory actually be real? Was this really my life? Was it all in my head? Was this real? Was I losing my mind?

I didn't want to sleep that night, because I was afraid I might wake up to California skies. No longer able to see those red eyes, simply because they did not exist. But I did. I fell asleep and my mind reminded me of the truth I had forgotten in my giddy, school-girl bliss:

_I was broken._

The dream was dark, yet it was so bright. Outside, surrounded by stones. I was looking at red, on the floor. When I looked up, I saw a boy my age being shot by a strange gun. He fell, covered in red and looked me straight in the eye. I hated those eyes. They were the same as_ hers_. That woman who hated me and I hated in return. Her ice blue eyes in a wedding dress, walking towards my father with a greedy smile that he mistook for love. But with the light draining from his eyes, I saw no hatred. Only concern. And regret. _Why? _And all at once I was eleven years old. _Why did you run!? _My mother was face up, bloody and mangled in the street, staring me dead in the eye. _Why didn't you look, you stupid, stupid girl! _ The longer I stared the more eyes I felt upon me. _Look! _They blamed me. _Look what you did to your mother, you stupid, ungrateful child! _They began to strangle me. _Just look! _But I couldn't look away. _Just die! _I just couldn't.

Suddenly, I was staring down the barrel of that same strange gun.

"_Have fun in Hell,_**_ Traitor_**_." _

It went off. I screamed.

"Jennive! _Jennive! _Wake up!"

My eyes snapped open and I sprung out of someone's grip and off my bed. I fell onto my hands and knees; forcing heaves of oxygen into empty, burning lungs. Drinking it like a fish thrown back into the sea, coughing and choking on the air until hands pulled me back up into a sitting position. My cheeks being lightly slapped and a frantic voice calling me.

"Jennive? Jennive, sweetheart, can you hear me?" Aunt Dot. I grabbed her arm and held onto it for dear life.

"Jen? You okay?" Uncle Bob was beside me. I couldn't breathe. I shook my head. "Can you stand?" I nodded and was lifted more by the two of them by my own strength.

"It was just a dream, okay? You're okay. It's all going to be okay. Okay?" I really wish he'd stop saying 'okay'.

"Can I-," I cleared my throat. Not liking the quiver, "Can I get a glass of water. Please." Uncle Bob nodded and gave me a kiss on the top of my head.

"See? You're okay." He ruffled my hair, then exit the room.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I shook my head. "It might make you feel better?"

"No, thank you," I confirmed harshly, trying to get rid of the shake in my voice. It was amplified. Aunt Dot looked at me with worry and uncertainty while I looked down at the floor. She pulled me in and held me close, kissing the top of my head as she rock gently back and forth. Tony was lucky to have Aunt Dot. Even if she didn't know what to do or what was even wrong, she would still try to make it all better. She had a mother's touch. But her hugs and kisses weren't the ones I wanted.

Choking on my dry tongue, I tried to speak. "I... I miss.. I miss Mom." My eyes were stinging." I miss my Mamma, Aunt Dot."

"Oh, Jennive," she pulled me closer.

"I miss her so much!" I started to cry.

_End Chapter 11_


	12. Party in Hell

Edit: 8/09/13: **Mostly j****ust changed the tense.**

Original intro: **What? Two chapters within the same ****_year_****? Within a few ****_months_**** of each other? Talk about insanity!**

**I am also working on rewriting the first chapter right now, but I don't know when that'll be done. It seems I've gotten a real bad case of the writer-bug. Which is bad because I have a lot of homework that's being ignored...**

**_BY THE WAY! _****I've changed the story a bit! Jennive still doesn't do drugs, nor has she ever, but she DOES DRINK when she's out clubbing or at parties! It's just way more realistic than 'only going for the music'.**

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Start Chapter Twelve: Party in Hell

After my nightmare last night, I couldn't really get back to sleep. I'm having trouble tonight, too. Tossing and turning in the sheets, I can't get those eyes out of my head. I hate that woman. I think I will _always_ hate her. Everything about her. But those eyes are the worst. Colored with ice and filled with lies. Lucas' face pops into my mind. He and that Devil woman, _Jane_, have the exact same eyes. Every time I see him, I think of her. And every time I think of her, I feel my anger and hatred bubble over. I want to smash her fake-ass face in front of my Father and watch her facade shatter before him. It briefly dawns on me that it might actually break his heart in the process, but I immediately silence that thought. He didn't raise me to tell the truth. Only to tell what needed to be said, regardless of consequence. "The more painful the truth", he would say, "the sooner it needs to be said. And the less people listen, the harder you have to try." In his time with Jane, he seems to have forgotten that lesson.

My phone, still yet to be confiscated, buzzes on my bedside table. I lean over and pick it up, expecting a random text from Lindsay or kitten pic from Cameron. The light blinds my eyes and it takes a minute of heavy squinting to make out the text.

'_Ur bf's having a party at Geiermeier_ _Cemetery. U going?'_

'_My what? who're you? how'd u get my #?'_ I tap out.

After a moment, they reply: '_Uh, ur boyfriend? got ur number from him 2. this is Sarah Fletcher, btw.' _My phone buzzes again. '_so r you going? he said it would be "a night to remember", but i dont wanna go alone so...'_

'_If youre talking about Lucas McCashton',_ I text furiously, '_he IS NOT my boyfriend.'_

_'Is that a no? :'[ '_

Cue the deep sigh. I _could_ stay in bed all night and not sleep, or I could go to a _party_ and not sleep. Parties have music and booze, always a plus with me. If I go, I can hang out with Sarah and maybe become friends with her. She was after all the one who got Mac in trouble on my behalf. That put her on my good side. But I'd have to deal with Lucas.

Sarah texts me again. '_btw, u know his name's McAshton, not McCashton, right?'_

I do a double take before replying. _'WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? MY WHOLE LIFE IS A LIE!'_

'_Hahaha lol XD don't feel bad. McCashton suits him better anyways. :] '_

I smile at the screen. Having a friend in the same time zone is worth more than anything Lucas could put me through tonight.

'_So,'_ I type slowly. '_Where's Geiermeier Cemetery? :) '_

* * *

I do _not_ like this. Geiermeier Cemetery, as it turns out, is the exact _same_ cemetery where Gregory and his family live. Which Lucas is at least _vaguely_ aware of. Before I left, I'd checked Tony's room to find the little man stirring in his sleep. He must've been having nightmares, but at least I don't have to worry about him tonight. To be on the safe side, I'd written him a note and tucked it into his shoes.

A number of cars are parked along the street, but at least two or three are inside the actual cemetery. Their headlights on and shining as music blasts from opened doors. I'm waiting for Sarah on the side of the road, listening to the chatter, clatter of bottles, and inhaling the familiar sent of marijuana. There was no way I'd risk running into Lucas by myself, especially if there was a chanced he'd be drunk or stoned. Heaven forbid he think I'd come for _him._ Another shiver passes through me and I zip my jacket all the way up. There's no way to be sure if it's the cold or the bad feeling bothering me more. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sarah jogging up to me, skin bare and hair styled.

"Thompson! You came!"

"It's Jen, and aren't you cold?"

"Not at all." Sarah looks down at herself then back up at me with a blush. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not really," I lie with a shrug. I'm not a fan of girls parading around in skimpy clothes, but Sarah's a big girl, not to mention the only one speaking to me. If she wants to go around like that, it's entirely her choice. As her hopefully, future friend, I'll do my best to look after her. "Give me a holler if someone puts their hands where you don't want 'em to be."

She nods and we walked towards the music. "Just so you know, I'm not _that_ kind of girl. I just really like Nathan."

"Nathan?" I try to put a face to name, but it doesn't exist.

"Yeah. You know, Lucas' friend? The ginger?" I see her desperately try not to roll her eyes at me. "Anyway, he _loves_ this type of thing and he pays more attention when I dress like this, _so_..."

"I get it." I don't like this Nathan guy already. "Is he here tonight?"

"I'd imagine not. He's been sick with the flu for the past few days."

We walk up to one of the cars. Surprisingly, I'm just as welcomed as Sarah. One boy reaches into the trunk (or '_boot' _as they call it here) and hands us each a beer. I wonder just how much weed it took for someone to hand me_, the American,_ a beer like I was their equal. Another guy tosses me a lighter. Though I'm now convinced this is secretly poison, I still maneuver the bottle open before handing the lighter to Sarah.

"Why dress up if he's not coming?"

"I dunno. Just in case?" She shrugs, thanking the guys— _Andy for the beer, Danny for the lighter_— before taking a big swing. I want to tell her that that's stupid, and that going after a guy who only likes you when you wear revealing clothes is stupid, and that wearing those clothes on a cold-ass night when you _know_ he's not even going to _be_ here was even stupider. Instead, I nod, take a swing, and keep my mouth shut. Turns out, being friends with Sarah is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

* * *

Sarah is currently shit-faced, sobbing into my shoulder over something she doesn't entirely remember and I can hardly understand. It's only her _fourth_ drink. I'm tempted to go find some hard liquor to deal with the headache she's been giving me, but stick with beer. Andy faithfully brings me more every time I shout. It's not hard to figure out why everyone's suddenly being so nice to me: they think I'm Lucas' girlfriend. Girls have been coming up to me, talking about hanging out over the weekend, and boys keep offering drugs and party invitations. Though most of them can't figure out _why_ or _how_ it happened, I can't either, none of them want to risk getting on Lucas' bad side. So no one asks. They don't question their leader, they only accept and act accordingly. As a result, I've been catapulted from poverty stricken leper to Her Royal Highness in less than twelve hours. Teenagers are funny that way, no matter what country you're in.

I've yet to see Lucas himself tonight, not that I'm complaining. It's likely due to the fact that Sarah has _literally_ anchored me here for the past two hours. So I'm waiting for two things: 1) for Sarah to pass out. Not entirely sure what I'll do afterwards, but as long as she stops crying all over me, it doesn't matter; Or 2) for Lucas to come out of hiding and set everything straight. I don't like these random douche bags coming up to me, acting like we've been friends for years. As if they hadn't thought I was lower than scum only _hours_ before. It's annoying and aggravating and every time someone offered me a hit of something, it's getting harder and harder to say no.

"_Sarah_," I say finally. "Go home. You're drunk."

She blubbers something, turns away from me, and begins vomiting in the grass. I feel my face pull in disgust. This night's really turning into an infuriatingly, depressing fiasco. Someone turns off a car radio and shushes the people around him. Other car owners follow his example. I, and most others, have no idea what's going on. Ears perk up, eyes dart around; just like that, the party is still and silent. I can feel the collective strain to catch wind of whatever it is. That's when I hear it. The unmistakable sound of wailing sirens blown in by the breeze. The world around us grinds to a halt, the pregnant tension impatiently waiting to shatter.

_"It's the goddamn police!"_ Someone shouts.

Chaos erupts around me. Kids trample over one another, screaming, shrieking, and shouting, stumbling into cars and bushes. Trying to get away or hide like it was the fucking apocalypse. Sarah jumps up and rushes away from the sound. I race after her, caught off guard by her sudden, sobering run. She bolts past headstones as I nearly trip over them. I don't know why I'm following her, darting through wave after wave of panicked teenagers. All I know is that she's drunk, I'm drunk, and we're about to get busted. We run across the open cemetery before Sarah falls. This time, I trip. I stare at the ground. How drunk _am_ I? Sarah hadn't just _fallen_. She disappeared into the earth. Like Hell itself had swallowed her whole.

"What the fuck, what _the_ fuck," I mumble crawling towards the random hole in the ground. "What the actual_ fuck!?_" Peering down, I see Sarah sprawled across a hard, dirty floor. "Sarah? Sarah!?" She doesn't move. The sirens practically upon me. I curse again. She'd fallen into a catacomb.

"What on Earth are you doing, Jenny?!" I barely have time to register the voice before being hurled onto my feet. "How high _are_ you?"

"I'm not _high!_ I'm buzzed!" I glare at Lucas as he tries to pull me with him. "Wait, wait, wait! I can't leave Sarah down there!"

"Sarah? Sarah who?"

"Fuck if I know! But she's down there and she's not responding."

"That's her problem." He continues to move.

"She'll be your problem, too," I rip my hand from his, "if any of my friends find her."

He stops and the both of us realize what I just said. She was alone and unresponsive in what we both knew to be vampire territory. I don't like to think Gregory or any of his family members would be inhuman enough to devour a young, innocent, unconscious girl. But she's a stranger. They could, and probably _would,_ if they were hungry enough. The sudden realization of just how dangerous they could be was incredibly sobering. I need another beer.

"What's the hold up?" Mac shouts, running up behind me. "We gotta move!"

Lucas nods towards the hole as another, shorter boy runs up to us. "She says her friend's down there."

"So?" The newest addition asks. "The coppers 'll find 'er."

"Doubt it!" I scream.

"Well, sweet 'art, they'll find _us_ if we don't move. And I don't know 'bout you, but I got a clean streak to keep." I tower over the cocky little bastard, debating on whether or not to push the little prick in after her. Attempting to take the higher road, I leave him alone and march back to where Sarah lay.

"Sarah, if you can hear me, I'm coming to get you!"

I throw my legs into the hole, lowering myself as much as I can before letting myself fall. The landing is terribly sloppy and I wined up on my ass, but if I'm in any pain I can't feel it. Though my mind is growing more and more clear, my body's still loose from the alcohol. I desperately try to drag Sarah away from the opening, intending to hide until the cops are gone. To my surprise, the boys tumble in after me, scrambling towards the shadows. That's when I hear the shouting.

_Fuck_. The cops had seen them, or me, or all of us. Either way, fuck fuckiddy fuck fuck. _Fuck!_ I tug Sarah's body harder until somebody else grabs her. Mac lifts her up and stumbles over with her in his lap. At the very least, they wouldn't be seen from up top. I back against the wall staring at the ceiling as more voices make themselves known. A few men shout into the hole before shinning their flashlights around. The four of us make ourselves as small as we possibly can without moving. After what feels like an eternity, the lights disappear and the voices withdraw. No one moves. Not yet. We wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. Finally, one by one, we each let out the breath we'd been holding in.

"_Fuck me,"_ Mac breathes. I mutter a thanks in his direction and he grumbles in response.

"Now what?" Short-y complains.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Uh, Dale?"

"Okay, Dale. Here's what we're gonna do: You're gonna shut the fuck up, number one. Then we're gonna get the hell out of here, drop Sarah off near a hospital, and then I'm gonna go get wasted. Because I _literally_ cannot take anymore of this fucking night."

The boys look at one another, at Sarah, then me, then back to each other. Mac and Dale turn to Lucas who nods.

"Sounds good."

_End Chapter Twelve_

* * *

**I had been planning for Jen and Sarah to become buddies since her second appearance in, like, chapter eight. But they didn't end up letting that happen and I doubt they ever will. It's really weird. I've heard of characters doing their own thing against the writer's will, but I've never actually experienced it. I ****_guess_**** it's a good thing? :\**


	13. Hell's After-Party (Part one)

**I tried to make the narration a little more "in the moment". I hope it's not too weird...**

* * *

Start Chapter Thirteen: Hell's After-Party (Part One)

"Um, guys?" Mac squeaked. "Sarah's bleeding." Lucas and I jump, running over to him, effectively knocking our heads together. We hardly notice.

_"Shit!"_

"_Fuck!"_ I unzip my jacket and tear it off as quickly as I can. "Where?"

"Her head," he answers weakly, lifting her towards us. Sure enough, the red, sticky substance was matting her chestnut hair, turning it crimson. Dale makes a gagging sound and mutters something about being sick. I try to find the source by wiping away as much of the blood as I can.

"Stop playin' with it an' just tie it 'round her head, for fuck's sake!" Dale orders from the other side of the room.

"Shut the fuck up, faggot!"

I smack Mac on the arm because he's closest. "Both of you shut it!" I whisper-shout. "The cops are still up there, and unless you fuckers want to spend the night in a jail cell, I suggest you keep it the fuck down!"

"Jennive. Language, _please_," Lucas insists, stealing the jacket from my hold.

"Fuck you." I want to be angrier with him, chances are _he_'s the one telling people the two of us are an item. But right now, to be perfectly honest, I'm a little scared. At first, it was just going to be us against the police and me trying to lead these guys, mostly Lucas, away from the Sackville-Baggs. Now that blood's been added to the mix, I'm not really sure how to handle the situation anymore.

"This is really bad," Lucas mumbles glancing over at me. Any other night in this cemetery, he would have been my surefire enemy. But at this moment, I wasn't sure which side to be on. How well could Gregory fight his own instincts? Or any of the others for that matter?

"How bad?" Mac asks looking between the two of us. I pale turning to him. Somehow, we had to work together with half the group not knowing what was actually at stake.

"You have _no_ idea," Lucas says, standing quickly. "Can you carry her?"

"Is she gonna die!?" Mac leaps up with Sarah in his arms. Holding her like a small child would their favorite toy.

"Shut up! Be careful!" I hiss, but was ignored.

"Is she gonna die, Lucas!?" Without thinking, I sock Mac in the arm and he nearly drops Sarah. I throw my hand over his mouth before he can yelp.

"Damn it, Mac, we're in a lot of trouble here. Sarah's hurt, the cops are looking for us, and I'm not entirely sure there's even a way to get out of this tomb _alive._ But you shouting like your goddamn ass is on fire **isn't****_. _****Helping**_. _**_Anyone._** So lets just _try_ to stay calm, and if **_any _**_one of you_ starts screaming again," I let go of Mac, glaring at each of them. "So help me, I'm gonna beat the holy Hell out of all three of you."

Dale open his mouth, but after a quick glance at Lucas immediately shuts it. It bothers me that my threat wasn't enough. There isn't anything I can do about it though, so I just crouch down next to Mac and Sarah. We are quiet for some time, all of us watching Sarah's chest slowly rise and fall. She was depending on us and that was probably the only thing keeping us from killing each other. I watch McCashton gingerly tie my jacket around her head.

"It's the best I can do with what I have," he mumbles.

"That's what she said."

"Dale, I am _literally_ going to murder you."

"Can we just focus on getting out of here?" Mac whines. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Right, an' how're we gonna be doin' that? Fly through the damn hole?"

I roll my eyes. "No, genius. There's gotta be a way to walk out."

"An' what makes you so sure 'bout that?"

"Well, _they_ didn't magically end up here." Mac nods at the decaying bodies behind Dale's head. "Someone had to carry 'em."

Dale turns around and catapults a few feet into the air. _"Jesus!_" He cries.

I shush him before standing. "All we have to do is figure out which way." Glancing around, I realize there are three paths leading in different directions. "_Um_."

"Should we split up?" Mac asks Lucas.

"No way!" Dale answers for him. " 'aven't you ever seen a horror film?!"

"You're an idiot."

"Mac, believe me when I say that I hate to agree with him, but Dale's right. We don't have any idea what's down here," I lie. "Or how sturdy the walls are... or if we're breathing in poisonous gas... or if there's homicidal maniacs waiting to kill us, or rabid man-eating groundhogs, or—"

"Okay, okay!" Mac roars, snapping me out of the beginnings of a panic attack. "No splitting up, I get it! But how do we know which way to go?" The minions look to their master for answers. Lucas considers the both of them, then studies each of the corridors before turning to me.

"Any ideas, Jenny?"

"One: Stop calling me that."

He rolls his eyes. "Any _others?"_

The only thing I can think of is to follow my nose, like a wise old wizard once said, but the whole place reeks of dirt, dust, and death. I walk over to one of the possible exits and inhale. It isn't _too_ bad, but it smells horribly stale and musty. Pulling out my phone, I turn on the flashlight app. Shining it into the hall, I try to keep the light as close to the ground as possible. Further down, large, crumbled pieces of rock are practically blocking the path. So probably not that way. I go to the next, take a sniff, and get a nose full of dust and rotted flesh. Not pleasant. This corridor didn't seem to have anything blocking it, but it was so dark that I could hardly see anything, even with the light. I pray it isn't this way. Moving towards the last of the three, I glance over at the boys. Lucas is watching me attentively, Dale is pacing back and forth mumbling, and Mac keeps looking down at the girl in his arms. Finally, I turn to the last entryway. Taking a deep whiff, I am surprised to find my nostrils filled with cool, fresh air.

"It's this way," I tell them before heading off. I hear their shoes scuffing against the floor trying to catch up.

"What makes you so sure _this_ is the way out?" Dale asks.

"No one said you had to follow me."

"Can... can we walk a little slower?" Mac asks quietly. "I'm carryin' deadweight here."

"Just drop 'er, fer cryin' out loud!" I smack Dale hard on the side of his head and he cries out. Lucas hushes him.

"Be quiet. We're staying together until we're topside." Dale doesn't like this plan, but says nothing. I don't like it either, but there's no way I'm leaving Sarah behind and the other three are part of that deal.

To be honest, if Sarah were ablebodied, or totally out of the picture, I think I'd still stay with them. Not because I care, but because I don't think I could handle any more blood on my conscience. A picture of my mother sprauld out on the road flashes through my mind. I shiver before Dale grabs my hand, the one with the light, and swings it around wildly.

"_What was that?!_" He squeals, in full control of my arm. "I saw somethin' movin'! I swear, I did!"

I smack him again, pulling my hand away. "Shut up!" I stage-whisper. "The cops are still up there, you know!"

"B-But—"

"No buts! It was probably just a bat or something, anyway," I lie. "Let's keep moving."

"Try and keep your freak outs to a minimum, mate."

"Shut up, Mac."

"Quiet, both of you," Lucas demands. They dutifly obey. I roll my eyes, still keeping the phone light low. We go through several rooms and hallways, surrounded by the echoing of our own breath and footsteps. There are a few sounds that do not come from us. If I didn't know any better, I would think it was only rats scurrying around. The eyes in my mind only watch and judge, but I feel like I'm being studied. It's a small difference, but enough of one for me to confirm that we are not alone.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take us long to find a way out. Though it's not the kind of exit that would show up in a design plan, it'll do. A simple, unintended gap near the ceiling has a large pile of dirt, rubble, and even roots spilling from it. Through it, the wind gives a low howl and moonlight streams in gracefully, as do the police lights and radio chatter. I put away my phone and slowly begin to climb atop the debris to examine our exit. The hole is small, it will be a tight fit for all of us, and there is nothing to hide us from the cops once we crawl through. I tell them this and the boys look to Lucas, who is already thinking. He nods.

"Dale, you go first."

"Wha— _ME!?" _We all shush him. "Why me? Why not _her_?"

Lucas doesn't even flinch. "First and foremost, we need to get Sarah out of here. She's a liability to us all." No kidding. Mac is sitting with her in his lap, breathing heavily. I study the poor girl from upon the heap. The bleeding seems to have stopped, but has already stained my once blue jacket. I let my eyes travel around the room, searching for any sign of the vampires but find none. I am both grateful and displeased, because I can still feel them, at least one of them, observing us.

"Once you're out," Lucas continues, "we'll feed her through the hole and you'll pull her the rest of the way."

"And if they see me?"

"Then run," I answer. "They'll find her if she's half sticking out a hole." Dale complains a bit more, but Lucas and Mac bully him up the fallen debris. He eventually clambers out and the three of us carefully send Sarah after him. He pulls her all the way out, drops her, then runs off. We pause, wondering if he'd been seen. None of the cops look disterbed and I decide that on top of being a douche, Dale is also a selfish coward. Mac goes next. He has some trouble getting a grip, but Lucas and I help push him through. Quickly, he picks up Sarah and moves for the coverage of trees to our right. I duck just as a cop glances our way. I count to fifty in my head before letting myself peek out. The man is on his radio now. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Is it safe?" Lucas asks.

I shrug. "Guess we'll find out." I turn to him. "You first."

He stares at me. "_Ladies_ first."

"Bite me. Move your ass." I can't help but scowl as he gives me a curious look, not moving.

"_Why?_ Are you hiding something?"

I cross my arms. "It's no secret I don't trust you, asshole."

He glares at me and begins climbing. "Personally," he says passing me, "I think your trust is in the wrong place."

"I _could_ say the same to you," I grumble, crawling out after him. "But _I_ stay outta other people's business." He offers his hand to help me up. I ignore it, standing on my own.

He shakes his head. "You Americans are too stubborn. You get yourselves killed that way."

"Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, telling us what we can and cannot do, usually ends up with us throwin' shit in your face and doing what we want anyway."

"Oh, well that's a bloody _brilliant_ way to live!" Lucas takes a large step towards me. "Let's just break all the damn rules and do as we please! I'm sure _nothing_ bad will come of it!"

"_Fuck you! _It's better than blindly following a bunch of dumb, stupid rules, without ever knowing—"

"HEY!" Both our heads snap to the new voice. The cop, the one who'd been on the radio, was rushing towards us. "You two! Stay where you are!"

But I'm already running blind through the trees. Their branches scratching and scrapping against my skin wherever they could manage. The adrenaline pours through my veins at an alarming rate, narrowing my sights and making it nearly impossible to hear anything outside myself. My shoes thunder against the earth, and just over the sound of my panicked breathing and heart beating, I can hear others around me. I cannot tell the difference between friend and foe by the sound of their feet, so I run from them all. It is impossible to see where I'm going in this darkness. My eyes are stinging and blurred, only making it worse. I'm so scared. I'm terrified, and I don't know why. My mind is spinning with thoughts of nothing and everything at frightening speed. I feel myself being strangled, but when I touch my neck there is nothing there. Still, I feel it clear as day. The same feeling is grabbing at my limbs, trying to pull me down. Trees slap me, their branches and twigs just as real.

All at once, my body falls forward. The Earth, I fear, has disappeared from under me. I scream, toppling head first down a hillside, before hitting cold, rushing water. My body is pierced with hundreds upon hundreds of knives and needles. My throat tightens and I feel my veins turn to ice. Through this, the water thrusts me along. I have no choice but to turn and tumble with the unrelenting tide. My lungs are burning and I force myself above the current. As I break the surface, my body automatically sucks for air, swallowing an unforeseen amount of water in the process. I choke and cough as I'm pulled back under. Kicking fiercely, I am torn between fighting the current and moving with it. Somehow, I'm on my back and able to breathe. The water is still cold, but I manage to wade closer to land. I grab at everything, rocks, gravel, roots. Eventually, I am pushed into a large rock. The current tries to pull me back but I am already halfway out. Once all of me is free, my body collapses upon the grass.

_End Chapter Thirteen_

* * *

**Gonna be totally honest. I wrote, like, 3/4ths of this within 24 hours. Hope you liked it!**


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